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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349376">Code Name L</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallaPlacidia/pseuds/GallaPlacidia'>GallaPlacidia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Department of Mysteries, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Dubious Consent, Harry is a bit of a dick, M/M, Secret Identities, Spies, a whiff of domestic abuse but I think it steers clear, but not between Draco and Harry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:35:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallaPlacidia/pseuds/GallaPlacidia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Trainees at the Department of Mysteries are kept under an identity-obscuring spell for two years. Harry doesn't even know who it is he's been falling in love with all this time. He's nervous about the Reveal, but really, what's the worst that could happen?</p><p>Feat. Damaged Draco Malfoy, damaged Harry Potter, damaged everybody. Also, spies &amp; intrigue! </p><p>I was inspired to write this in part by the portrayal of The Department of Mysteries in Alpha_Exodus' 'You, a violent desire' so if you like that aspect of this fic, go check that one out! It's great.</p><p>This is a gift for Tepre. Will she like it? I don't know. Let's find out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2264</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tepre/gifts">Tepre</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651991">you, a violent desire</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_exodus/pseuds/alpha_exodus">alpha_exodus</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Join my newsletter at newsletter.gallapod.com !</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At night, L sometimes sat up abruptly and swung his legs over the side of bed. Then he would stare rigidly forward for fifteen minutes before lying down again.</p><p>“Everything okay?” asked Harry, the first time it happened.</p><p>“Fine,” said L. Harry curled around L’s body in a u-shape. L put a cool hand on his head and stroked his hair. “Go back to sleep,” he said, so Harry did. </p><p>L noticed that Harry was bad at the basic administration needed to keep an adult life afloat. Harry came back to his solitary dorm one evening to find L sitting at his desk, surrounded by neatly stacked piles of paper.</p><p>“Sign here, and I’ll send it off tomorrow when I’m moonlighting,” said L. </p><p>“You could read these?” asked Harry, surprised, because the insurance policy L had filled out included personal information. The Mysteries charm generally blanked out things like that, just as it prevented Harry from actually knowing what L looked like. Harry could see bits of him at times, when he was looking straight at him. He knew he had seen L’s eyes before, although he couldn’t remember them. They stared at each other enough, and sometimes, as Harry’s gaze flickered across L’s face, he felt as if he was on the verge of understanding something. But he never did. L’s features vanished like a dream the moment Harry looked away. </p><p>“Only parts,” said L. “I’ve put stars next to the bits you need to fill out.”</p><p>“You have no idea how stressed I was about this.”</p><p>L smiled. Harry caught it in a glimpse, but a moment later it was gone, and Harry couldn’t recall it. </p><p>“Of course I know how stressed you were about this, K,” said L. “That’s why I did it for you.”</p><p>K was Harry’s assigned letter name. It was why he and L had become friends so quickly; their rooms were across from each other.</p><p>In class, Harry watched L cast spells, quicker and surer the rest of their cohort. There were only fourteen left of the original twenty-six, and their two-year training period was coming to an end. Then they would be full Unspeakables, and the Mysteries charm would be removed. Harry tried not to freak out when he remembered. He knew L was worried too. </p><p>It was hard to talk about it, when the spell caught their tongues up so often. </p><p>When they first started sleeping together, they quickly discovered the impossibility of a normal relationship under such circumstances. Harry was having a Bad Day, the kind of Bad Day that had pushed him to sign up to the Department of Mysteries at the age of twenty-five, seven years after the traditional enlisting age. They had to bend the rules to allow him entry, but Harry was used to that.</p><p>It bothered him, knowing that L was so much younger. Not that L <em>seemed</em> any younger, of course; and it wasn’t the age thing that got Harry, actually, so much as the not-understanding-about-the-war thing. </p><p>On that first Bad Day he had when he was with L—because once they started sleeping together, there had never really been any question that they were exclusive—Harry felt more than usually aware of the mark the war had left on him. </p><p>He was sullen and blank all day. L followed him back to his dorm like a shadow. </p><p>“Something’s wrong,” said L. </p><p>“It’s—” —<em>the war, I was sort of involved in it, I remember it in flashes, I tasted blood on my fork this morning, it was only metal, but sometimes metal tastes like blood, do you know what I mean?</em></p><p>L said nothing for a moment. He made Harry’s bed and laughed a little when he found Harry’s toothbrush under the pillow.</p><p>“I don’t know how that got there,” said Harry.</p><p>“You’re a mess,” said L.</p><p>Harry went to the window and leant his head against the glass.</p><p>“It’s—” —<em>frustrating, infuriating, all those Death Eaters that got off, they’re probably all back to normal again, while I’m still—I just want to be <span class="u">normal</span>. I just want to be like everyone else. I don’t want to drag you down with this.</em></p><p>“You could try…” said L, hesitantly, “…saying what you feel.”</p><p>Harry turned around with an incredulous expression. L shrugged.</p><p>“The spell usually doesn’t stop feelings,” said L. “They don’t give too much away.”</p><p>Harry frowned at that. Of <em>course</em> feelings gave things away. Although maybe not about Harry’s identity, which was all the Mysteries charm concerned itself with.</p><p>“Okay,” said Harry. “I feel…” He stopped, picking at the tiny, hair-like rags of skin around his fingernails. </p><p>“Upset,” said L.</p><p>“Yes,” said Harry.</p><p>“About…” L looked down. “Is it about us? Me?”</p><p>“No,” said Harry, although that wasn’t quite right. “A bit.”</p><p>When L spoke, his voice was cold.</p><p>“Right,” he said. “Well, let’s not drag it out. I’ll ask Chief if we can switch duelling partners. I’m sure we can be civil to each other in class.”</p><p>“No, L, it’s, I’m, I’m embarrassed, that’s all.”</p><p>L laughed grimly.</p><p>“What about? You don’t even know who I am yet.”</p><p>Harry suddenly understood.</p><p>“L. You idiot. I’m not embarrassed of <em>you</em>. I’m embarrassed to be like this. All this fucking… <em>moping</em> I’m doing. It’s…” Harry struggled for a word. It was harder to think, because L had approached and slotted his nose next to Harry’s, had put his hands on Harry’s hips.  “It’s <em>disgraceful</em>,” said Harry.</p><p>“You’re being a bit hard on yourself, don’t you think?”</p><p>Harry shook his head, and then, because he could feel L’s breath in his ear, allowed himself a fragment of honesty.</p><p>“I don’t want you to know how fucked up I am,” he said. </p><p>L laughed.</p><p>“You dear thing,” he said. “You have no idea how much I relate to that.” </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I <em>sincerely</em> doubt you’re more fucked up than I am,” said L. “Not that it’s a competition.”</p><p>“I’m a mess,” said Harry. “I can’t—”—<em>do anything, I was given a million opportunities and squandered them all, I think my life isn’t very useful to anyone anymore, I used to be so useful, do you know what it’s like to achieve everything and look down the barrel at an endless decline…</em></p><p>“I love you,” said L.</p><p>Something new opened up in Harry, as if L had ripped his way through him.</p><p>They kissed, and Harry smiled, but he didn’t say it back. </p><p><br/>They had been<em> whatever this was</em> for six months when L came into Harry’s bedroom in tears. As Harry looked at L’s fierce, red-rimmed eyes, he had a fleeting impression of their colour, but it was gone in an instant. </p><p>L held out a letter.</p><p>“Can you,” he said, and Harry tried to read it, but the charm made him dizzy, and the words blurred. He made out a few: <em>“regret to inform you”</em> and <em>“died this morning at 10 a.m”. </em></p><p>“Someone died,” said Harry. “That’s all I can see.”</p><p>L nodded, the tears falling fast and thick down his vague, twisted face.</p><p>“What if you—” L stopped, frustrated. Harry tried to hold him. L peeled away. He opened his mouth to say something, but was clearly prevented by the spell. “Fuck,” he said, finally. “Honestly, fuck this!”</p><p>“You’ll be able to tell me, soon,” said Harry. L covered his face with his hands, as if Harry’s words had brought a fresh wave of grief upon him. “You’re scared about the Reveal,” said Harry.</p><p>“Ha,” said L. “Unspeakables are never frightened.”</p><p>“I’m scared too,” said Harry.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because—”—<em>I’m Harry Potter. I’ve only been able to be with you because you didn’t know who I am. Because all I can think about is the stupid fucking war and you were probably a preteen when it happened. </em></p><p>L laughed to himself and reread his letter. </p><p>“Are you okay?” asked Harry.</p><p>L shook his head.</p><p>“Who died?” asked Harry. L paused before answering.</p><p>“Someone important to me,” he said, and then looked surprised that the spell had let him say so much. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Harry. L frowned at the floor. </p><p>“I’m scared no one will ever love me again,” he said. </p><p>Harry took a tentative step forward. When L didn’t back away, Harry wrapped his arms around him and held him as tightly as he possibly could. </p><p>He knew what L wanted him to say, but Harry couldn’t say it. How could they know if they loved each other, when they didn’t know who they were? Harry <em>suspected</em> he loved L. He loved the way L moved in bed. He loved L’s quiet grace, and the way L took care of him as no one had ever thought to before. But he didn’t even know who L had just lost, and L didn’t know that Harry had spent his whole life fighting Voldemort and chasing after Death Eaters. </p><p>“Lots of people will love you,” said Harry. L stiffened in his arms and gave a choking sort of laugh.</p><p>“It’s like you know already,” he said.</p><p>“Know what? That you’ll be loved?” asked Harry. L shook his head against Harry’s chest. “Know what?” asked Harry again.</p><p>“Who I—” but the spell cut L off, and Harry gave it up. </p><p>They had sex, as they did every night, slow and hard and dreamy. It was impossibly strange, to know each section of a person’s body in brief, hand-sized moments. The instant Harry stopped touching L, he forgot everything from the texture of his skin to the colour of his hair. He remembered only the feelings L had evoked; vague sensations of exquisite languor, and a sort of horrible beauty that twisted in Harry’s chest without him knowing why. </p><p>“You don’t love me, then,” said L, afterwards.</p><p>“We don’t know each other,” said Harry. </p><p>“I know you,” said L.</p><p>Harry thought of the war, how it felt as if he was made up of it. How not a day went by that he didn’t think about it.</p><p>“You don’t know me,” he told L. </p><p>“I don’t know what happened to you,” said L, “but I know who you are now. And I love you.”</p><p>“You can’t know someone, if you don’t understand what made them,” said Harry. </p><p>L was silent, stroking his fingers listlessly up and down Harry’s arm.</p><p>“Maybe you don’t love me <em>because</em> you know me,” he said. </p><p>Harry pressed his lips to the top of L’s head. When he lay back, he was left with a faint impression that the experience had been pleasant. He wondered what L’s hair felt like. He wished he could remember.</p><p> </p><p>The Department of Mysteries worked like this: promising young witches and wizards were recruited straight out of Hogwarts and put into anonymous training. At the same time, they began their other careers: they moonlighted. Harry didn’t know anything about the careers of the other recruits. For himself, three days out of any given week, he slept at Grimmauld Place, saw his friends, and worked at the auror office. No one knew what he did the rest of the time. The idea was that Unspeakables occupied positions in a variety of fields, watching, reporting, investigating. </p><p>He tried to ask L about his moonlight career, once. L was always quiet and distracted when he returned from his days away from the department. </p><p>“Do you like it? Where you go?”</p><p>Harry figured that was all right— feelings. Feelings were usually fine to talk about. But when L opened his mouth to answer, the spell caught at his words, and he leant his head into the pillow.</p><p>“I guess I can’t say,” he said.</p><p>“I don’t like mine,” said Harry. “I wonder why I can say that, and you can’t?”</p><p>“I don’t know, K,” said L. He sounded weary. </p><p>“Are you all right?”</p><p>L only laughed, so Harry pulled him close, and they had sex, the way they did every night. Slow, and hard, and dreamy.</p><p>Harry didn’t like his job at the auror office, but he did like seeing Ron and Hermione, even if he sometimes wondered whether their friendship wasn’t in a bit of a state. </p><p>They were all in a bit of a state. </p><p>The week before the Reveal, Harry had a long boozy dinner at Ron and Hermione’s. Hermione drank sparkling water, her lips growing tighter and more disapproving with every glass of wine Ron put away. Harry kept up with him, drink for drink.</p><p>“And the thing is,” said Ron, at around 10 p.m., “the thing is, the fucking…. <em>Malfoys</em> didn’t even get any time!”</p><p>“Lucius died in Azkaban,” said Hermione. Ron made an impatient gesture.</p><p>“So fucking what? Narcissa Malfoy didn’t get so much as a slap on the wrist, and Malfoy only got what, three months?”</p><p>“Six,” said Hermione, “we’ve been over this. And Narcissa’s dead.”</p><p>“Six months!” Ron lurched for the wine bottle. “Fred’s dead—Bill’s face— Teddy an orphan— and the bastard gets<em> six months!”</em></p><p>Hermione looked at Harry. He sighed.</p><p>“He wasn’t, you know, <em>evil</em>, in the end,” said Harry. “Like, at the manor, right? He could have turned me in.”</p><p>“Six months! Fred is <em>dead</em> and the fucking Ferret is prancing around London, living it up!”</p><p>“Malfoy didn’t cause the war, Ron,” said Hermione. “He was just as caught up in it as the rest of us.”</p><p>Ron made a disdainful sound. </p><p>“Please. He loved it. He boasted about his connection to Voldemort in sixth year, remember? On the train? Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry, “he did.”</p><p>Hermione glared at him.</p><p>“You’re drunk. You both are.”</p><p>“It’s Friday, ‘Mione!” complained Ron. </p><p>“And I have work tomorrow,” said Hermione. “As you know.”</p><p>“I know,” said Ron, sorrowfully. He nuzzled her hair. “‘m sorry. I love you. I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too,” said Hermione, and Harry realised it was late, and he should get home. </p><p>Back in Grimmauld Place, he missed L with an ache in his chest. If L were there, Harry could have explained— something. He could have said…<em> I’m angry. I’m frustrated.</em> And L would have put his cool hands into Harry’s hair.<em> Thank you for telling me,</em> he would have said, and then they would have had sex, slow, and hard, and dreamy. </p><p>Harry hated being away from the Department of Mysteries. He hated moonlighting. </p><p>Back at the Department of Mysteries, he told L he had missed him. L smiled, lightning bright. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“You have no idea,” said Harry. “You have no idea how much I need you.”</p><p>L’s smile tightened, and Harry knew what he was thinking. <em>Then why won’t you say you love me?</em> But Harry was sure of only one thing, and that was his own uncertainty. So he didn’t say it back, no matter how often L told him. Even though he knew, each time L said it, that Harry was breaking his heart with his silence.</p><p>The night before the Reveal, they lay awake in each other’s arms. </p><p>“I’m nervous,” said Harry.</p><p>“What are you scared of?”</p><p>“I like this,” said Harry.</p><p>“Me too,” said L, in a low, solemn voice. </p><p>“Are you nervous?” asked Harry.</p><p>“Yes,” said L.</p><p>“What are you scared of?”</p><p>“I already told you.” L turned away. “That no one will love me again.”</p><p>Harry stroked L’s shoulder blades with one finger and stopped himself from saying it. Of course he wanted to say “I love you”. He wanted to reassure L, to tell him to have faith. But Harry didn’t have faith himself. </p><p>“Goodnight,” said L, stiffly, the way he spoke when he was trying not to bother anyone. Harry kissed his shoulder.</p><p>“Goodnight, L,” said Harry.</p><p>“I love you,” said L. </p><p>Harry couldn’t answer. Eventually, he heard L’s breathing even out, and knew he had fallen asleep.  </p><p><br/>They wore their formal Unspeakable robes for the Reveal, and stood in alphabetical order. L was radiating discomfort. His shoulders were so straight they looked brittle. Harry reached out and hooked his pinky through L’s.</p><p>L cast him a swift, fleeting smile, and they squeezed each other’s fingers. </p><p>The Chief stood with his various, code-named attendants. He gave a speech about modern espionage, about the importance of information in a post-war age, about crafting peace through knowledge. Harry wasn’t really listening. He focused on the feel of L’s warm finger against his, and hoped with all his heart that L wouldn’t see him differently when he knew who Harry really was. </p><p>It was a vain hope. Harry knew that. </p><p>“Congratulations, recruits,” said the Chief. “You are now… Unspeakables.”</p><p>There was a warm whoosh of air, like walking into a posh shopping centre in winter. </p><p>The first thing Harry noticed was that Hermione stood next to the Chief: she was code name Badger. He suddenly could remember seeing her around, recognising her for a milli-second at a time, and then losing the memory.</p><p> She was smiling uncertainly at Harry. Her eyes flicked to his right, where L stood. </p><p>L had dropped Harry’s finger. Harry turned to face him, and saw the pale, stricken face of Draco Malfoy. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry was barely aware of how he got back to his dorm. The moment he saw who L was, it was as if his body moved without his consent, born away by the wave of outraged fury and misery that had broken over him.</p><p>Draco Malfoy. He had let<em> Draco Malfoy</em> fuck him. Every night. For a <em>year</em>.</p><p>He paced his room. How the fuck had Malfoy even been allowed to join the Department? Weren’t there restrictions in place to prevent Death Eaters working at the Ministry? And Malfoy was overage, he must have joined at twenty-five, like Harry. Had Hermione known? Had <em>Malfoy</em> known who Harry was?</p><p>He wondered whether Malfoy had bought his way into the Department. He remembered Ron saying that the Malfoys always got away with murder. They were given chance after chance, all the way through history. Privilege earned them privilege, and now Harry was suffering for it. </p><p>There was a knock at the door. It was Malfoy.</p><p>“K,” he said.</p><p>“Don’t fucking call me that, you creep!” said Harry, his blood boiling— violated—furious—</p><p>“Can I come in?”</p><p>Harry didn’t answer. He turned away. Malfoy followed him inside and shut the door with a quiet click. </p><p>“Harry,” he said.</p><p>“How did you even join?” asked Harry. </p><p>“They recruited me,” said Malfoy. </p><p>“You have to quit.”</p><p>“Harry. Come on. That’s— that’s not the solution.”</p><p>“Did you know? Did you know it was me?”</p><p>“Of course not,” said Malfoy. “I’m just as shocked as you are. I thought you were some wise-beyond-your-years twenty-year-old. I felt a bit weird about it.”</p><p>“You have to quit.”</p><p>Malfoy frowned. </p><p>“I can’t,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”</p><p>“This is my <em>right!”</em> said Harry. “I have a <em>right</em> to a job I don’t hate—I sacrificed <em>everything</em> so that people like you and your fucking <em>dad</em> wouldn’t genocide half the population—how <em>dare</em> you—”</p><p>Malfoy put out his hands placatingly.</p><p>“Harry— I know— Harry—”</p><p>“I feel sick, looking at you,” said Harry. It was true. His stomach roiled as the lifting of the spell allowed all his memories to filter back, complete in retrospect where they hadn’t been in the present. He remembered where Malfoy’s outstretched hands had been on his body. He remembered Malfoy’s face when he came, and the strange, melancholic look he got afterwards.</p><p>“You’re being cruel,” said Malfoy. Harry laughed. </p><p>“Am I? Like you were to Dobby? Or Hermione? Or me? When have you ever been anything but cruel?”</p><p>“I’m not saying you’re being cruel to me as <em>Draco</em>. I’m saying you’re being cruel to me as <em>your boyfriend</em>.”</p><p>“I’m not—” said Harry, appalled. “Don’t even— don’t even <em>say</em> that!”</p><p>“Look, this isn’t easy for me, either, all right? I was worried enough about how you would react when…” he touched his left forearm. “I hoped…I was scared. You <em>know</em> what I’m most frightened of!”</p><p>“Oh, cry me a river, Malfoy. You got off scot free after the war and you expect everyone to just, what, put everything behind them?”</p><p>“You know I wasn’t on board with, with everything my father did. You know that. I saved you, at the Manor.”</p><p>“Oh, my God!” said Harry, twirling around in an ecstasy of rage. “You saved me? Is that what you tell yourself? You were too cowardly to actually save me, Malfoy. You did the bare minimum. And then you tried to turn me in at the Battle of Hogwarts! And now you’re just, what, here, to be my <em>colleague</em>, what a fucking <em>joke</em>…”</p><p>Malfoy hadn’t moved an inch since he came in. He stood by the door, motionless.</p><p>“So, to clarify, you think I ought never be forgiven? Is that right?”</p><p>“Well,<em> I</em> sure as shit shouldn’t have to forgive you,” said Harry. “And if you had any decency at all, you would quit and leave me in peace. This is the first place I’ve found that made me feel sane, but I’m not hanging around if <em>you’re</em> here.”</p><p>There was a long pause. When Malfoy spoke, it was with fierce quietness.</p><p>“You don’t know what you’re sending me back to,” he said. </p><p>“Not so fun being an orphan, is it, Malfoy?” said Harry. Distantly, he wondered at his own viciousness. He wondered where it came from.</p><p>“If you want me to quit and disappear, I’ll quit and disappear,” said Malfoy. “But please, just… think about it… I love you…”</p><p>Harry saw red. </p><p>“You don’t fucking <em>know me!”</em> he said, and punched Malfoy in the face.</p><p>He knew instantly that he had done something wrong. </p><p>He had punched Malfoy in the face so many times before, at school. Malfoy had stomped on his nose. They fought as equals, and rivals, and it was bitter, but it had never felt like this. Like punching Hermione, or Mrs. Weasley. Like punching someone who had trusted you not to. </p><p>Malfoy’s head was knocked sideways by the blow. His hand flew to his jaw and he opened and closed it a few times, tentatively. </p><p>“Malfoy…” said Harry. </p><p>Malfoy raised his head and fixed Harry with a typically Malfoyish sneer. </p><p>It occurred to Harry that he hadn’t seen that sneer in two years. He realised that none of the expressions Malfoy had made since the Reveal had reminded Harry of how he was in school. He had come into the room as L, to talk to K, and had been greeted instead by Potter, who hated Malfoy. </p><p>But now he was definitely <em>Malfoy</em> again. Haughty, with a curl in his lip.</p><p>“You’re right,” he said. “Evidently I don’t know you, after all.” He looked Harry up and down. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re emotionally stunted, given that nobody loved you as a child. Not even Dumbledore, in the end, although I hear he pretended to. That must make you feel <em>awfully</em> small, Potter.”</p><p>“Fuck off!”</p><p>“Willingly,” said Malfoy, and he left, slamming the door behind him. </p><p>It was typical of Malfoy to know exactly what words would fly quickest to Harry’s heart with wounding accuracy. </p><p>Harry smashed up his room. He broke his chair, fixed it, and broke it again. He overturned his desk, threw his picture frames, and smashed all five of his mugs.</p><p>But when his rage ebbed away, he was still left with the little, inarguable touches of Malfoy all over his room.</p><p>His closet was organised by colour and texture.</p><p>“Good grief, K! Doesn’t this stress you out every morning?” L had asked, shortly after he all but moved into Harry’ dorm.</p><p>“Oh— yeah, a bit,” said Harry.</p><p>“Poor, beleaguered angel. Let me sort it out for you.”</p><p>He spent that evening pulling out every item of clothing Harry owned and dividing them into “acceptable” and “please donate to someone you dislike” piles. Harry thought it was all a load of bollocks, but to his surprise, it really was easier to get dressed in the morning with L’s new system. It was even easier to be stylish, because L had paired together likely outfits. Hermione and Ginny both remarked on Harry’s newfound sense of fashion, and Harry felt better, sexier. </p><p>When Harry straightened his desk, he found a long Gringotts form that had mostly been filled out. There was a sticky note on the front, with L’s—<em>Malfoy’s</em> sloping handwriting.</p><p>
  <em>You short-sighted darling. You haven’t started a pension yet, have you? Don’t lie, I know you haven’t. Fill the rest of this out and then I’ll explain to you about compound interest. I love you!</em>
</p><p>Harry stared blankly at the note for a few seconds before it dawned on him that he had been a monumental dick and he needed to find Malfoy right now, immediately.</p><p>Malfoy’s room was empty. There had never been much in it, anyway— no photographs or personal touches. He had always used Department of Mysteries bedding, even. No one used Department of Mysteries bedding. It was horrible. It was the reason they always ended up sleeping in Harry’s room. </p><p>Harry went back to his own room and waited an hour before checking again. Malfoy’s room was still empty. </p><p>They were supposed to be moonlighting that weekend. He had probably just taken off early. That’s what Harry would have done, in the same situation. </p><p>Over the course of what felt like the longest weekend of his life, Harry tried to think through their last interaction without prejudice.</p><p>It had been devastating to discover who he had been sleeping with, of course. Harry had spent long nights imagining worst case scenarios in the lead up to the Reveal, but nothing as awful as this had ever occurred to him. <em>Of course</em> he hadn’t wanted it sprung on him that he was dating a Death Eater. </p><p>On the other hand, Harry couldn’t avoid the fact that he <em>knew</em> L, and, consequently, Malfoy. He was the person who had comforted Malfoy when his father died—Harry now knew it was Lucius, he remembered reading about it in the papers the next day. He knew that Malfoy understood everything there was to know about finance and the economy, that he was organised, and generous, and prone to bouts of quiet, absent-minded depression. </p><p>Harry knew that he had broken something when he hit Malfoy. It was hard to sit with that knowledge. He didn’t even know what he wanted from Malfoy. He couldn’t date him—obviously not—just the thought made him panic—but the idea of <em>not</em> dating Malfoy made him feel desperately, heart-wrenchingly lonely.</p><p>On Sunday, he realised it was because he loved Malfoy. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That evening, Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place.</p><p>“Hermione!”</p><p>“Hi, Harry, how are you?” she asked. She sounded exhausted.</p><p>“You’re an Unspeakable! I couldn’t believe it, when I saw— so you knew I was going out with Malfoy?”</p><p>“Yes,” she said. “I did try to warn you.”</p><p>Harry had a vague recollection of Hermione (code name Badger) approaching him a year and a half ago and telling him that romantic entanglements were a liability in this line of work.</p><p>“You were pretty fucking unspecific!”</p><p>“I couldn’t say more. I said as much as I was able to. The spell tongue-ties us, too, you know!”</p><p>Harry sank back into the sofa.</p><p>“Well, he and I had a fight,” he said.</p><p>“He quit,” said Hermione.</p><p>Harry jerked his head up to look at her.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“He quit,” said Hermione again. “That’s what I’ve come to tell you.”</p><p>“What—but that’s—<em>un</em>quit him!”</p><p>“He was pretty adamant, Harry. We tried to talk him out of it. As you can imagine, it’s very expensive to train an Unspeakable, and to lose one right after the Reveal…”</p><p>“Where is he? I’ll get him to come back. I was a twat. I just need to apologise.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Harry,” said Hermione miserably. “I can’t tell you. It’s classified.”</p><p>Harry gaped at her.</p><p>“But he’s my—” Harry cut himself off, unsure how to finish.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Hermione again. “I literally can’t. It’s a tongue-tying spell. Like the Mysteries charm.”</p><p>“Well, isn’t there some way I can contact him?”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Hermione. “There isn’t.”</p><p><br/>And there wasn’t. Harry asked everyone at the Department of Mysteries. No one could give him any answers. He sent owls. They came back with the letters unopened. He searched through the auror records, and found nothing except a memo noting that Malfoy worked at a certain rare goods shop off Knockturn Alley for a few years when he first got out of prison.</p><p>He filled out the form starting a pension and mailed it in. He kept finding notes from L all over his room. There was one in his medicine cabinet. <em>How come you never buy toothpaste until you have to extract the paste out with the bristles of your toothbrush, like a tiny dental coal miner? I’ve ordered you more. Why do I love you?</em></p><p>The package of toothpaste arrived three days later. A six month supply, charged to Harry’s Gringott’s account. </p><p>There was a note in his Subtlety in the Field textbook (it was Harry’s least favourite subject). <em>Stop looking for love notes in your text books and do some bloody work. (I love you.)</em></p><p>When he found the one in the pocket of a pair of trousers he rarely wore—<em>You look good in these. I love you</em>—Harry spent the rest of the day getting drunk alone in a pub. </p><p>The next day, he skived off work and went to the rare goods shop off Knockturn Alley.<em> Croome’s</em>, said the cracked sign above the door.</p><p>It was a rickety, dark, gloomy little shop, crowded with things that, if they weren’t illegal, were at least illegal-adjacent. Harry wore his invisibility cloak, because Hermione had impressed upon him that going after Malfoy would put Malfoy at risk.</p><p>“People will be angry if they find out he worked at the Ministry. You know that’s not technically legal. We had to pull quite a few strings.”</p><p>So he waited for someone to enter the shop, and followed them silently inside.</p><p>There was a flash of blond hair behind the counter. Harry’s heart leapt up, and he pushed forward, carelessly knocking a few things off the shelves, only to realise that it wasn’t Malfoy after all. The boy behind the counter was younger, maybe nineteen, and his hair was darker than Malfoy’s. He was slight, and looked anxiously at the man who had entered the shop ahead of Harry.</p><p>“Hello, sir,” he said.</p><p>“Well, Timothy?” said the man. “How’ve you done today?”</p><p>“It hasn’t been busy today, Mr. Croome,” said the boy, who Harry supposed was called Timothy. Harry observed the man he had followed. Mr. Croome, presumably the owner of the shop. He was huge, ominous. There was something greedy about the way in which looked at Timothy. Timothy seemed to feel this, as well, because he shrank under his gaze. “I’m sorry, sir,” he added. “I did get a woman in asking after some dragon’s blood, but as we aren’t getting any in until June—”</p><p>“You’re hopeless at business, Timothy,” said the man, in a way that made Harry abruptly uncomfortable. A moment later, Harry knew why. “You’re lucky you’ve got me to take care of you.” Croome took Timothy’s chin in one beefy hand and moved it this way and that. “Aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yes,” whispered Timothy.</p><p>Croome gave a lecherous grin that made Harry’s skin crawl and joined Timothy behind the counter.</p><p>“I’ve had a stressful day,” he said, crowding Timothy against the wall. “So why don’t you close up shop for lunch and come upstairs with me?”</p><p>“In a bit,” said Timothy. “I’ve just got to finish this inventory.”</p><p>“Ten minutes,” said Croome. He smacked Timothy on the behind and disappeared through a door behind the counter. Timothy bit his lip, frowning, and bent his head over an enormous ledger with a barely audible sigh. </p><p>Harry took off the invisibility cloak.</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>“Salazar Slytherin!” cried Timothy. “You gave me a scare! I didn’t see you come in!”</p><p>“I was just watching your interaction with Mr. Croome, there.”</p><p>Timothy blushed and looked back at his ledger.</p><p>“May I help you find anything, sir?” he asked. “Rare creatures, foreign roots, exotic powders?”</p><p>“A friend of mine used to work here. Draco Malfoy. Ever met him?”</p><p>Timothy shook his head minutely, still not looking at Harry.</p><p>“Mr. Croome owns the shop, does he?” asked Harry. Timothy looked up.</p><p>“Of course. His name’s on the front.”</p><p>“He seems friendly,” said Harry. Timothy blushed again.</p><p>“He’s a very generous man.”</p><p>“Is he,” said Harry.</p><p>“Your friend can’t have worked here recently, if he’s your age,” said Timothy, sticking out his chin. “You’ve got wrinkles around your eyes. You’re probably well into your thirties.”</p><p>“I’m twenty-seven!” said Harry. L (Malfoy) used to tell him to use face cream. He suddenly wished he had listened. “Anyway, what has that got to do with anything?”</p><p>“Mr. Croome doesn’t keep his shop boys once they hit twenty,” said Timothy, then he appeared to realise what he had said. “I mean— the apprenticeship only lasts two years, and— he’s been very good to me!” </p><p>His voice rose defensively at the end of his speech. </p><p>“All right,” said Harry, slowly. “So Malfoy’s probably not worked here for about seven years. Does Mr. Croome stay in contact with his old… apprentices?”</p><p>“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not like that,” said Timothy. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but he’s never forced—I’m very <em>grateful</em> to Mr. Croome. He took me in when no one else—and who even are you, anyway, to poke your nose into my business!”</p><p>“I’m not,” said Harry. “I’m just looking for my friend. Where do Mr. Croome’s apprentices go, after their time with him ends?”</p><p>Timothy seemed to deflate. He leant unhappily against the counter.</p><p>“Away,” he said. “I don’t know. They find other jobs, I suppose.”</p><p>“How old are you?” asked Harry, because Timothy’s young features were screwed up with worry.</p><p>“Nineteen,” said Timothy. “Twenty in two months,” he added.</p><p>“What will you do?”</p><p>Timothy laughed. Harry recognised that laugh. It was the same one L used to do when Harry had asked him a hopeless question. Harry wondered where they had both caught it from.</p><p>“I don’t know,” said Timothy. “I suppose I’ll have transferable skills.”</p><p>“Will it be so hard for you to find a new job? You’re too young to have been a Death Eater; you can’t have many restrictions,” said Harry. Timothy shrugged.</p><p>“I haven’t got any credentials. My parents homeschooled me, so that I wouldn’t have to mix with mudbloods.”</p><p>Harry winced.</p><p>“Don’t use that word.”</p><p>Timothy looked at him curiously.</p><p>“Are <em>you</em> a mudblood? I’ve never met one before. You don’t <em>look</em> as if you are.”</p><p>“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“Oh, you know,” said Timothy, breezily. “Mudbloods are all fat and stupid, with small, piggy eyes.”</p><p>Harry was beginning to understand why Timothy would struggle to find reputable employment. </p><p>“I think your parents may have been misinformed,” said Harry. </p><p>Timothy laughed that hopeless laugh again. </p><p>“Probably,” he said. “They never got anything fucking right.” He covered his mouth with his hand. “Ooops. Sorry. Swearing.”</p><p>It was such a schoolboyish gesture that Harry’s heart melted. He got out a quill and a scrap of parchment, and wrote his address on it. </p><p>“Look. If you ever need somewhere to stay, come to my house,” said Harry. “I’ll help you out.”</p><p>Timothy accepted the scrap of parchment. His eyes swept appraisingly over Harry’s body. </p><p>“All right,” he said.</p><p>“It’s not like that!” said Harry. </p><p>“Like what?” asked Timothy, innocently.</p><p>“I’m not—you can do the dishes once in a while, if you want to repay me.”</p><p>“How euphemistic,” said Timothy.</p><p>“It’s not a euphemism!”</p><p>“You’ve got the wrong idea about Mr. Croome, you know. He’s never forced me to do a thing. I’m just <em>grateful</em>.”</p><p>“There are lots of ways of abusing power,” said Harry.</p><p>“He took me in when no one would. I like making him happy,” said Timothy.</p><p>Harry sighed.</p><p>“It’s your life. Come to me if you need anything, or if you find out about Draco Malfoy.” He turned to go.</p><p>“Wait,” said Timothy. “What’s your name?”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry. “Harry. Harry Potter.”</p><p>Timothy’s mouth dropped open as Harry apparated away from the shop. </p><p> </p><p>Harry and L had been friends for ages before they kissed, and then they kissed for ages before they started messing around, and then they messed around for ages before they decided to have sex. </p><p>“I usually top,” said Harry. “What do you usually do?” </p><p>L was silent for a little while. Harry waited. L was a bit weird about physical intimacy. Harry didn’t mind. </p><p>“That works,” said L, finally. He was always shy and vague when they spoke about sex. He used evasive, euphemistic language. </p><p>But when Harry tried to prepare him, L lay stiff as a board, looking straight up at the ceiling with a vacant expression. </p><p>“You all right?” asked Harry. L nodded, but he didn’t relax. Harry moved up the bed to lie next to him. “You’re not all right.”</p><p>L frowned at the ceiling.</p><p>“I don’t really like doing it… this way…” he said. “It makes me feel out of control.”</p><p>“I’m happy to switch it up,” said Harry. “You top.”</p><p>“I’ve never done it before,” said L.</p><p>“I’ll walk you through it.”</p><p>It was better that way; so much better, because L didn’t check out. </p><p>“Did something happen to you?” asked Harry, afterwards.</p><p>“No,” said L, with that strange, melancholy expression that Harry would eventually learn always crept into L’s eyes after sex. “No one’s ever forced me to do anything.”</p><p><br/>Harry sat up, taking his face out of the pensieve. It was bizarre to watch his memories, because in them he could see Malfoy, where he never could at the time.</p><p>It made it easier for him to bridge the gap between L and Malfoy in his mind. He started obsessing over the pensieve. He stole away between classes and watched their relationship unfold. </p><p>It was L who kissed him first, although Harry had clearly been angling for a kiss for weeks. They were in the Department library, and Harry reached past L to get a book, purposefully pressing too close. L turned around. </p><p>At the time, Harry had only noticed the kissing. Now, he could see that Malfoy’s face was set, determined. </p><p>He watched more memories. Maybe he was reading into them, but it seemed as if it had been difficult for Malfoy to kiss him, although he had clearly wanted to for a long time. </p><p><br/>Sometimes, Harry would watch his memory-self realise for a split-second who it was that he was sleeping with. It was usually when Harry kissed his way down Malfoy’s arms, and encountered the Dark Mark. Harry could see his past-self pull back in surprise, and then the horror disappear from his expression as he forgot what he had seen.</p><p>Malfoy was always watching his face when this happened. He even tried to tell Harry, once. Harry had just pulled back from the Mark. L scooted away from him.</p><p>“K,” he said. “There’s something I have to tell you.”</p><p>“What is it?” asked Harry. </p><p>“I—” L’s tongue was caught by the spell. “During the—” Again. “You won’t—”</p><p>“Tell me after,” said Harry, leaning in to kiss him. “I have things to tell you, too.”</p><p><br/>Sometimes, Harry would watch the pensieve Malfoy realise, for a split-second, who Harry was. It was usually when Malfoy brushed Harry’s hair away from his forehead. His eyes would fall on the lightning bolt scar, and they would widen in an expression Harry couldn’t quite read.</p><p>Eventually, Harry figured it out. It was the same expression Malfoy had the day his father died. It was grief. </p><p>Harry sent out owls and looked through confidential folders and asked important people questions, but no one knew where Malfoy was. He had disappeared from the world entirely.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two months after Malfoy left, Harry returned to Grimmauld Place to find Timothy perched on his sitting room sofa. </p><p>He stood when Harry entered.</p><p>“You said I could come here,” he said defensively, as if Harry had told him to get out.</p><p>“I did. You’re welcome. Are you okay?”</p><p>Timothy wiped at his eye with the inside of his wrist. There was a small carpet bag on the floor beside him, and nothing else.</p><p>“It’s my birthday,” he said. </p><p>“Happy birthday,” said Harry. </p><p>“My twentieth birthday,” said Timothy.</p><p>“Right. You’re over the hill,” said Harry.</p><p>“He gave me lots of warning,” said Timothy. “I’ve been looking for other jobs, but—and I hadn’t any place to go. He, er, he gave me some suggestions, but…”</p><p>“You didn’t like the look of them?” guessed Harry.</p><p>Timothy shook his head.</p><p>“Not much. Then I thought of you. Harry Potter.” Timothy laughed that hopeless little laugh. “If my parents knew I was speaking to you…!”</p><p>“They probably don’t like me much,” said Harry.</p><p>“Oh, fuck them,” said Timothy, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “Bollocks! I didn’t mean to swear.”</p><p>“I’m not your teacher. You can swear in front of me.”</p><p>Timothy shook his head.</p><p>“It’s disrespectful. You should respect your elders.”</p><p>“I’m really not that much older than you,” said Harry.</p><p>“You’re twenty-seven,” said Timothy, with the air of someone explaining to an elderly pensioner that they’re too old to operate heavy machinery. </p><p>“These… suggestions Mr. Croome made,” said Harry. “Do you reckon Draco Malfoy would have taken him up on them?”</p><p>Timothy shuddered.</p><p>“I hope not,” he said. </p><p>“What kind of thing are we talking?”</p><p>“You’re an auror,” said Timothy. “You’re trying to arrest Mr. Croome.”</p><p>Harry tilted his head.</p><p>“Do you want me to arrest Mr. Croome?”</p><p>“No!” said Timothy, standing up with sudden energy, then forcing himself to sit down again. “I… I love him. Not as… but… he’s the only person who was kind to me.”</p><p>“He took advantage of you,” said Harry. Timothy shook his head. </p><p>“You don’t understand,” he said.</p><p>“I really think <em>you’re</em> the one who doesn’t understand. He shouldn’t have—”</p><p>“I’ll leave if you talk about him like that again!”</p><p>“Okay,” said Harry. “I won’t say anything. And I won’t arrest him.” (Harry silently added a <em>“yet”</em> to this statement.) “But I’d like to know what sort of options would have been open to my friend, after his apprenticeship.”</p><p>Timothy looked very tired.</p><p>“Gangs, mainly. Not—it wasn’t sex. I can do <em>sex</em>. It was more of the, violent crime side of things.” He kicked peevishly at the edge of the hearth rug. “I’m not a violent crime sort of <em>person</em>.” </p><p>“Neither is Malfoy,” said Harry. </p><p>“Well, he won’t have done too well among that lot, then,” said Timothy. He sighed. “How long can I stay?”</p><p>“As long as you need,” said Harry. “But you have to look for a job.”</p><p>Timothy nodded. Then he glanced up at Harry, a crafty, fearful look in his eyes.</p><p>“And what will you… expect… of me…?”</p><p>“I told you already. Wash the dishes now and again.”</p><p>“All right,” said Timothy. “Dishes. And…?”</p><p>“I don’t want to sleep with you,” said Harry impatiently. Timothy smiled. </p><p>“Oh, good. I’m tired.”</p><p>“I don’t mean just tonight,” said Harry. “I mean, at all. Do not misunderstand me on this.”</p><p>Timothy stretched, looking happier and more relaxed than Harry had seen him yet.</p><p>“I suppose I ought to be insulted,” he said, “but I’m not.” His expression shifted. “You aren’t going to murder me, are you?”</p><p>“I wasn’t planning on it,” said Harry.</p><p>“That’s good,” said Timothy thoughtfully. He yawned. </p><p>“Kreacher will show you to your room,” said Harry, because he suspected that Timothy would get the wrong idea if Harry took him there. “Oh, and one more thing— while you’re here, you aren’t to use any blood supremacist language.”</p><p>“All right,” said Timothy mildly. “I don’t care, either way.”</p><p>Kreacher led him upstairs.</p><p>“Happy birthday,” Harry shouted after him. </p><p>“Thanks,” said Timothy. </p><p> </p><p>There was another year of training after the reveal, so Harry’s life was, structurally, much the same as it had been before. Four days a week, he trained at the Department of Mysteries. Three days a week, he worked at the Auror department. </p><p>“You’re gone a lot,” said Timothy.</p><p>“Top secret auror stuff,” said Harry. </p><p>“I know,” said Timothy. “I wasn’t complaining.”</p><p>He had been staying with Harry a week. He tried to stay out of Harry’s way, but he rivalled Harry in slobbishness. Kreacher grumbled constantly as he picked stray items up all around the house. </p><p>“Does anyone ever call you Tim?” asked Harry. It was Monday evening, and Harry had cancelled plans with Ron and Hermione so that he could stay in with Timothy. Timothy knew the names of the gangs Mr. Croome would have recommended to Malfoy. Harry needed those names. </p><p>“Tim? Why would they call me that?” asked Timothy.</p><p>“Like, a nickname,” said Harry.</p><p>“My name is Timothy,” said Timothy, looking as if he was trying to work something out in his head.</p><p>“Right, yeah,” said Harry. “Just, Tim is shorter, isn’t it?”</p><p>Timothy shrugged. </p><p>“Call me whatever you like. It’s your house.”</p><p>Harry poured him a glass of wine. </p><p>“I don’t pay rent on this, you know. Or tax. I inherited it.”</p><p>Timothy watched as Harry handed him the wine. Or, more accurately, he seemed to assessing how much wine Harry was drinking. Harry imagined that had probably been useful information to gather, when Timothy was dependent on Croome.</p><p>“What I’m getting at,” said Harry, “is that you should think of yourself more as a housemate, than a house guest. You don’t need to be so <em>careful</em> all the time.”</p><p>Malfoy had been careful. Harry had thought it was because of the spell, and of course, the spell had prevented him from confiding in Harry. But Harry thought back on all the ways L had tried to improve Harry’s life, and wondered if they were a manifestation of that carefulness. A desire to make himself useful, indispensable, so he wouldn’t be tossed aside. </p><p>“Am I behaving in a way you dislike?” asked Timothy, running his finger along the edge of his glass.</p><p>“I don’t care how you behave.”</p><p>Timothy took a sip of his wine. </p><p>“I’m very grateful to you,” he said, after a pause.</p><p>“Timothy… I need to know the names of those gangs.”</p><p>Timothy’s eyes darted up to Harry’s. He licked his lips. </p><p>“What gangs?”</p><p>“The ones Croome recommended to you. They may be the only way I can find Draco.”</p><p>Timothy scowled.</p><p>“Draco, Draco, Draco, you’re <em>obsessed</em> with him.”</p><p>“You said you were grateful. Give me a name,” said Harry. </p><p>“You’ll arrest them all, and then you’ll arrest Mr. Croome,” said Timothy. </p><p>Harry closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.</p><p>“Timothy. If I apprehend a gang of violent criminals, I have to arrest them. If Mr. Croome is involved in illegal activities, I have to arrest him.”</p><p>“There are <em>all</em> sorts of other ways I can show my gratitude,” said Timothy, putting his hand on Harry’s. Harry shook it off, and Timothy leant backwards in his chair. “I don’t want to tell you the gang names. You can force me to, if you want.” He balanced his chair on its two back legs. “You could threaten to throw me out if I don’t tell. You could drug me with Veritaserum. You could beat me up. Mr. Croome never forced me to do anything, but you can force me to tell, if that’s the kind of person you are.”</p><p>Harry grit his teeth and smiled.</p><p>“You would have been a Slytherin,” he said. </p><p>“Probably,” said Timothy.</p><p><br/>When Harry went down to breakfast, Timothy sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, puzzling over job applications.</p><p>“How’s it going?” asked Harry.</p><p>“I’m useless,” said Timothy, and Harry was reminded of how young he was. Sometimes he forgot. But Timothy looked near tears, and his hair was all ruffled from pulling at it. “I can’t <em>do</em> anything. Mr. Croome always said so. Who’s going to hire me? What am I going to do?”</p><p>What had Malfoy done, wondered Harry. Who had helped him? Had anyone?</p><p>“You’re not useless,” he said to Timothy. “You have transferable skills—”</p><p>“Yeah, but I’m not trying to get fucked for money, am I? Oh—” he covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. Swearing. Sorry.”</p><p>Harry sighed and sat next to him. </p><p>“Come on, let me help. I’m no good at this kind of stuff, usually L—Draco does it for me, but I’ll give it a go.”</p><p>Surprisingly, Harry found he really had improved at paperwork, from all the times L had walked him through forms. He was able to help Timothy assemble a CV, write a cover letter, and fill out several job applications. He even wrote Timothy a recommendation, which he suspected would go pretty far as a substitute for official credentials. He tried to keep his mind off Draco Malfoy at twenty, suddenly adrift, with a dead mother and a father in prison.</p><p>Timothy watched him as he did all this. Harry could feel the weight of his gaze on the side of his face.</p><p>“There,” said Harry, after a few hours. (The auror department was never particularly strict about punctuality, at least, not where Harry was concerned.) “Now we can send all these off, and you’ll hear back pretty soon.”</p><p>He turned to look at Timothy, and found that their noses were almost touching.</p><p>“Thank you,” said Timothy, in a low, intimate voice. He dropped his eyes to Harry’s lips and up again.</p><p>“Right, well, I won’t be home tonight,” said Harry. </p><p>He was horny, but not <em>that</em> horny. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, of course he’s going to fall in love with you, Harry,” said Hermione, when he pulled her aside at the Department of Mysteries that evening and told her everything. “No one’s ever been nice to him. You’re handsome and famous and rich. He’s staying at your house. What did you expect?”</p><p>“I don’t know! Not this!”</p><p>“Do you like him back?” asked Hermione.</p><p>“He’s a <em>baby</em>,” said Harry. </p><p>“It’s the same age difference you thought there was between you and L.” </p><p>An Unspeakable who had accidentally transfigured his head into that of a fish came gasping past them. Harry drew Hermione closer into an alcove. </p><p>“Why is this Department always so chaotic,” he muttered. </p><p>“It’s the cost of creativity,” said Hermione. “Well? The age difference didn’t bother you with L.”</p><p>“Yeah, but he’s <em>not</em> L,” said Harry.</p><p>“You miss him.”</p><p>“Of course I miss him! I’m going mad—he thinks I <em>hate</em> him—I punched him, Hermione, did he tell you that?”</p><p>“He did, actually,” said Hermione. “Harry, you have to move on. He’s gone. I can’t tell you where he is. I—” she was prevented from saying something by whatever spell still bound her. </p><p>“You expect me to give up? Do you even know me?”</p><p>“There’s… there’s nothing you can <em>do</em> for him, Harry,” said Hermione, sounding distraught. “I wish I could tell you more.”</p><p>“Why? Why can’t you?”</p><p>“All Unspeakables are protected by strict privacy spells, you know that, even if they leave the department.”</p><p>“Then I’ll just have to find out some other way,” said Harry.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>It wasn’t difficult to talk to Croome. Harry just asked a handsome young intern at the auror department if he could polyjuice into him. The boy was so thrilled to have Harry Potter ask him for a favour that he agreed instantly, even when Harry told him it might be for unsavoury purposes.</p><p>Several hours later, polyjuiced to the eyeballs, Harry sat in a pub with Croome’s hand on his leg. He pretended to get drunk on Smirnoff Ice, and grew more and more floppy and ridiculous over the course of the evening.</p><p>“But sir… what about after the apprenticeship?” asked Harry, when he was quite sure that Croome was a) enamoured of him and b) going to move his hand higher up Harry’s thigh if Harry didn’t get out of there soon.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry about that, my boy. I’ve got all sorts of contacts.”</p><p>“You must know a lot of people,” said Harry.</p><p>“Everyone worth knowing. There, does that set your mind at ease?”</p><p>Harry giggled and literally bat his eyelashes. </p><p>“Oh, yes,” he said. “What sort of people? Are they famous?”</p><p>“Very, in some circles,” said Croome, self-importantly. He leant closer in, and Harry forced himself to smile so that he wouldn’t give into the impulse to knock all of Croome’s <em>fucking</em> teeth out. “Have you ever heard of the Knutters?”</p><p>Harry blinked back his dismay. He <em>had</em> heard of the Knutters. They were responsible for a solid third of the most abhorrent, violent crimes the aurors had to deal with. They were impossible to track down because they had so much <em>money</em>. </p><p>“But they’re too exclusive,” said Harry, widening his eyes in what he knew Croome would think was admiration. “No one knows how to contact them.”</p><p><em>“I</em> do,” said Croome. “And so will you, after your internship.”</p><p><em>Damn</em>.</p><p>Harry leant slightly away and let his lovely, borrowed face grow cold.</p><p>“That’s an easy thing to claim,” he said. </p><p>“You don’t believe me?” asked Croome. Harry shrugged, pouting. (He was having fun, now. This had always been the part of espionage he liked; the part where he got to feel as he had the night he took Felix Felicis and convinced Slughorn to give him the memory.)</p><p>Croome took Harry’s hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. Harry felt all the blood rush to his face as fury rose within him. Croome evidently mistook Harry’s sudden colour for virginal bashfulness.</p><p>“You are delectable,” said Croome. “You’ll make me lose my head. Fine, baby, I’ll tell you.”</p><p>And then he did. It was, as Harry had suspected, not a very close connection. A statue where some Knutters lingered on occasion, if you knew when to look. </p><p>But it was enough. </p><p>“I’ve just got to use the little boy’s room,” said Harry, with a wink. When he was out of sight, he disapparated to Grimmauld Place and showered until he could no longer smell the smoke and Smirnoff Ice of the bar in his hair. </p><p><br/>Harry spent all his time skulking near that statue, watching for Knutters. Croome had explained about their secret signal— they carried a copy of a French muggle newspaper, <em>Le Monde.</em> Harry was busy with auror work and Unspeakable training, but he went every chance he got. </p><p>Meanwhile, Timothy fell deeper and deeper in love with him.</p><p>Timothy tried to make Harry dinner. (It was an unmitigated disaster. Harry had to do cleaning charms on the walls, while Timothy tearfully said <em>“But I <span class="u">followed</span> the recipe!”)</em></p><p>Timothy folded Harry an origami crane. </p><p>“Thank you,” said Harry, touched. It reminded him of L. </p><p>Timothy gave him another origami crane.</p><p>“Thank you,” said Harry, again.</p><p>At the third origami crane, Harry’s thanks was muted. This did not seem to deter Timothy in the least. </p><p>Timothy knocked on Harry’s door in the middle of the night.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” asked Harry, sitting up. He had been tossing and turning, unable to get to sleep.</p><p>“I could hear you were awake,” said Timothy. “Thought you might want some company.”</p><p>“Er, that’s okay,” said Harry, but Timothy came to sit on his bed. </p><p>“Can I say something?” he asked. </p><p>“Er, yeah,” said Harry. It threw him off-kilter to have Timothy on his bed; handsome, available, <em>near</em>. He was conscious of how fiercely he wanted to be touched.</p><p>The moonlight streamed through the window, and Timothy’s eyes found Harry’s in the silvery darkness. </p><p>“It’s just…you seem lonely, Harry.”</p><p>“I’m not,” said Harry. “I’m fine.”</p><p>Timothy playfully knocked Harry’s knee through the duvet.</p><p>“Come on. I know you never bring anyone home. Don’t you get…” Timothy had left his hand on Harry’s knee. He dug one finger in. “…antsy?”</p><p>Harry sat up and pulled his legs into his chest.</p><p>“What even makes you think I’m gay?” he asked.</p><p>Timothy shrugged. </p><p>“Well, first off, I know you think I’m hot, and that you’ve thought about sleeping with me.”</p><p>“I—”</p><p>“Don’t deny it,” said Timothy. “I can tell. And secondly, Draco Malfoy was not just your ‘friend.’ Is that why you won’t sleep with me? Because of him?”</p><p>“This is not a conversation I want to have, Timothy.”</p><p>“How long’s he been missing?”</p><p>Harry sighed.</p><p>“Months.”</p><p>“He can’t expect you to stay celibate forever.”</p><p>“Timothy…”</p><p>“It’s not… it’s not just to thank you,” said Timothy, looking at his hands in his lap. </p><p>Harry swallowed.</p><p>“I mean, I am grateful,” said Timothy.</p><p>“I know. You don’t have to be, but I know.”</p><p>“But I actually want to have sex with you. I <em>really</em> want to. And I’m <em>not</em> too young. I’m three years older than you were when you defeated the Dark Lord.”</p><p>“Call him Voldemort.”</p><p>“Voldemort,” said Timothy obediently. </p><p>Harry was silent. Timothy shuffled forward. Harry didn’t move. Timothy nuzzled his face against Harry’s knees, then looked up. </p><p>He didn’t look anything like Malfoy. But then again, Malfoy had never looked like Malfoy, when Harry was with him. </p><p>Harry was motionless as Timothy leant forward and kissed him, twice, on the lips. It was a nice kiss. It filled Harry with a rocketing loneliness. It made Harry feel as if no one would ever take care of him again.</p><p>“You’re so hot,” sighed Timothy.</p><p>“I’m tired,” said Harry. “I shouldn’t have let you do that.”</p><p>Timothy leant his forehead on Harry’s knees and Harry touched his hair. It didn’t feel like Malfoy’s. Nothing about this felt right.</p><p>“I’ll go to bed, then,” said Timothy.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” said Harry. </p><p>Timothy paused at the bedroom door.</p><p>“Let me know if you change your mind,” he said. </p><p>Harry nodded.</p><p><br/>Weeks went by. Harry couldn’t move on. Malfoy wasn’t dead. (Was he?) They hadn’t broken up. (Had they?) There was no one else Harry wanted to confide in, no one else he wanted to hold or be held by. There was no one else, for anything. The clarity was bitter because it came too late. </p><p>“Why the fuck are you so sad all the time?” asked Ron. Harry shrugged and made some joke about being bad at adulthood. </p><p>Hermione threw him sympathetic looks whenever they passed each other at the Ministry. A month after Timothy moved in, she asked whether Harry liked him.</p><p>“Yeah, I mean, I’m dead proud of him, he’s been smashing it at his new job,” said Harry. Timothy was working at Ollivanders as a shop assistant. It turned out that he knew a freakish amount about wand cores, as that had been one of the ancient, <em>pure</em> forms of magic his parents had approved of. </p><p>“No, I mean, do you <em>like</em> like him?” asked Hermione. </p><p>Harry hesitated.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Hmm,” said Hermione. They were in the Mysteries Cafeteria. It was typical of the Department of Mysteries to be unable to produce anything so mundane as a normal cafeteria. Unspeakables ate in a terrifying nuclear bunker, and the food was magically designed to do things like increase bone growth and cell activity.</p><p>“What,” said Harry. </p><p>“You hesitated,” said Hermione.</p><p>“He’s handsome,” said Harry, “and interested, and I…”</p><p>“You should go for it,” said Hermione.</p><p>“You know something I don’t,” said Harry. “About Draco.”</p><p>Hermione nodded. </p><p>“Is he… can you tell me if he’s alive?”</p><p>Hermione shook her head, and Harry’s hands started trembling. </p><p>“No— Harry— I meant I can’t tell you!”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry shakily. </p><p><br/>Still Harry continued to avoid Timothy’s advances. And he continued to look for Knutters by the statue Mr. Croome had mentioned.</p><p>In the end, when he found Malfoy, it was quite by accident.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The aurors barely ever had him take on cases anymore, because in some of his more troubled years, he had had a bad habit of going ballistic in strange directions and he became something of a liability. But the young girl who was missing—Anna— was clearly a runaway. All Harry had to do was find her and return her to her parents. </p><p>He went about his search without much interest. His mind was always on other things. The war, mainly, but underneath it all ran that hideous, unstable loneliness that had surfaced when Timothy kissed him. </p><p>He understood why L’s worst fear had been that he would never be loved again. That was how Harry felt all the time, now, even though he knew that was ridiculous. Of course people loved him. But then, Ron and Hermione and the Weasleys didn’t <em>know</em> him the way L had. Not who he was <em>now</em>. </p><p>He searched through Anna’s desk, his interest piqued by the extravagance of her parents’ house, given that they both held fairly low-paid ministry jobs. </p><p>He thought of his own desk. The dread of paperwork had been increased by the sorrow of knowing Malfoy would gladly have helped him with it, if Harry hadn’t fucking <em>punched him in the face</em>. </p><p>He interviewed Anna’s parents. They were completely distraught, much more than was usual for runaway cases, and the mother seemed to blame the father. </p><p>He went to Anna’s local park. That was when he caught it: a portkey trace. It was advanced magic. They didn’t teach portkey tracing to aurors yet; the spells were too new. But Harry sensed it when he ran his charms: the portkey magic mixing with Anna’s. It was only too easy to locate where it had gone and apparate there.</p><p>It was an echoing warehouse with many, many doors. The walls were lined with crates and oddly shaped bundles, and there was a hooded figure slumped in a chair. A tall, blond man turned towards Harry, wand outstretched. </p><p>“Eastborne, I fucking told you to—” </p><p>Malfoy stopped talking. He didn’t lower his wand. </p><p>He was rangier and harder than he had been a few months ago, and he was missing two teeth; Harry could see from the way Malfoy was staring at him, open-mouthed. </p><p>“Malfoy,” said Harry, “fuck, are you okay? Listen, go to mine, the address is No. 12 Grimmauld Place, I think they’ve got a teenage girl in here somewhere—”</p><p>“She’s there,” said Malfoy, expressionlessly. He gestured at one of the bundles on the floor. Harry could just make out a strand of brown hair through a rip in the black plastic. Harry fell to his knees and scrabbled to get her mouth free so that she could breathe.</p><p>“She’s dead,” said Malfoy. “You need to get out of here.”</p><p>“What the fuck,” said Harry, ripping open the plastic to reveal Anna’s dead, staring face. She was sixteen. “Malfoy! What the fuck!”</p><p>“Harry,” said Malfoy. <em>“Leave.”</em></p><p>“Did you kill her?”</p><p>“The others will be back in a minute. You’re going to fuck everything up,” said Malfoy.</p><p>“Who’s that?” asked Harry, pointing at the figure tied to the chair. </p><p>“I’m dealing with him,” said Malfoy.</p><p>“Did you kill her?”</p><p>“No, all right, no, now fuck off!”</p><p>Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Malfoy. Malfoy eyed it warily. </p><p>“I’ve been looking for you. <em>Everywhere</em>. Is this where you’ve been?”</p><p>“They will <em>kill</em> me if they see me talking to you, is that what you want?” asked Malfoy. His face creased into a raw, miserable expression as he seemed to hear his own question. “…is it?” he asked, his voice becoming thin. </p><p>“Of course not, you tosser, just, let’s get out of here!”</p><p>“I can’t,” said Malfoy.</p><p>“What do you mean, you can’t?”</p><p>Malfoy pointed at the hooded figure in the chair, who squirmed uncomfortably.</p><p>“I have a job to do.”</p><p>“Malfoy. You can’t mean…”</p><p>“I don’t have time to argue this with you, Harry! Stop fucking threatening me with your wand and get out!”</p><p>“I’m not going to let you torture that man!” </p><p>Malfoy cast a stinging hex at him as Harry pushed past. Malfoy was quick at wandwork, but not as quick as Harry. Harry cast a spell at him that sent him sprawling into a stack of wooden crates.</p><p>“Harry!” said Malfoy, his voice shrill, “you have no fucking clue what you’re meddling with! Just <em>trust me</em> and <em>get out!” </em></p><p>Harry tore off the man’s hood.</p><p>“You’re going to be okay,” said Harry.</p><p>“Harry Potter!” said the man. </p><p>“Potter, you fucking idiot,” said Malfoy. <em>“Avada Kadavra!”</em></p><p>There was a flash of green light and the man was dead.</p><p>You didn’t remember this feeling properly, thought Harry. You thought you did, when you were safe in your bed at night, but you didn’t. You only truly remembered the catastrophe of death in the moment when it happened. </p><p>“K,” said Malfoy, his voice soft and abruptly near. His hand was lightly shaking Harry’s shoulder. “K, you have to go. K.”</p><p>“You didn’t change,” said Harry blankly. “You really <em>were</em> bad, all along.”</p><p>Malfoy gave that hopeless laugh, the one he and Timothy had picked up in the same place, in the same ways. </p><p>“Yes, Harry,” he said. “Bad, through and through. Will you go, now?”</p><p>Harry could hear the distant sound of doors opening, of people coming.</p><p>“K,” said Malfoy.</p><p>“Don’t fucking call me that,” said Harry. He pointed his wand at Malfoy.</p><p>“There isn’t <em>time</em> for this,” said Malfoy. He drew something out of his pocket and pressed it into Harry’s hand. Harry was so surprised that he took it instinctively. </p><p>A moment later, he was standing outside Marble Arch Tube Station. The object Malfoy had passed him was nothing but an old bottle cap; a trigger-portkey. Malfoy had made it immune to Mysteries tracking spells.</p><p>“Fuck!” said Harry. Several commuters glared at him. He didn’t care. “Fuck,” he said again. </p><p>Timothy was home when Harry got there. </p><p>“You’re home early!” he said, smiling.</p><p>“I want to fuck you,” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy grinned.</p><p>“Okay,” he said.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were both shirtless in Harry’s bedroom when Harry broke away.</p><p>“I’m really messed up and this is a bad idea,” he said. </p><p>“Yeah, I don’t care,” said Timothy, leaning in to kiss him again. Harry stopped him.</p><p>“No, like—I don’t love you.”</p><p>Timothy laughed.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So you’re…”</p><p>“…damaged?” finished Timothy. “Don’t make my decisions for me. Just shut up and kiss me.”</p><p>Harry did. Three minutes later he broke away again.</p><p>“It’s just sex,” he said. “Are you okay with that?”</p><p>“I will be, if we ever actually<em> get to the sex,”</em> said Timothy. </p><p>“Right,” said Harry. “Good.”</p><p>If Timothy noticed that Harry was going through the motions, he didn’t say anything. Harry couldn’t think, couldn’t feel a thing. He poured his mind into his body and tried to lose himself in grim, ruthless pleasure.</p><p>“Mmm,” said Timothy, when they were done. “I think that’s what it’s supposed to feel like.”</p><p>Harry shifted to look at him.</p><p>“Are you okay?” he asked. </p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be?” said Timothy, with an ironic eyebrow lift.</p><p>Harry sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Timothy propped himself up on one elbow.</p><p>“You were thinking about him, weren’t you?” asked Timothy. “Draco.”</p><p>“No,” said Harry. He started dressing.</p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“I have to report a death. Teenage girl. Murder.”</p><p>Timothy pulled the covers up to his chin. Harry wished he would leave, then hated himself for being so callous. </p><p>“So this was a, a get out of your head thing?” asked Timothy.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry, resting his head against the door. “I should have… made that clear. Before.”</p><p>Timothy shrugged.</p><p>“I would have done it anyway.”</p><p>“I should really get going,” said Harry. </p><p>“It was nice,” said Timothy, as Harry opened the door. Harry paused to smile at him.</p><p>“It was,” he said, although it hadn’t been. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know how to process it. The dead girl. Malfoy saying <em>Avada Kadavra</em> so quickly and easily, in the same breath as “Potter, you fucking idiot,” as if he was mopping up a glass Harry had spilled. Malfoy, whose hands had been all over Harry’s body, who had done Harry’s paperwork because he knew it stressed him, and left notes that said “I love you” in the pockets of Harry’s clothes. </p><p>He didn’t know how to deal with it, so he slept with Timothy again that night. </p><p><br/>“There’s a girl who comes into the shop,” said Timothy, as they lay in bed. “I think she likes me.”</p><p>“Are you trying to make me jealous?” </p><p>Timothy was silent.</p><p>“Sorry,” said Harry. “I’m a dick.”</p><p>“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was just… she’s my age. I’ve never been with someone my age.”</p><p>Harry turned to face Timothy.</p><p>“You know you can stay here no matter what, right? I’m never going to kick you out. You can sleep with anyone you like. Or whatever.”</p><p>“Who’s L?” asked Timothy.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You called me L.”</p><p>Harry turned onto his back.</p><p>“No, I didn’t.” </p><p>“Erica told me that’s called gaslighting. When you try to make someone doubt their memories.”</p><p>“Erica comes into the shop,” said Harry. “You think she likes you.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Harry sighed. </p><p>“I’m sorry I called you L. I didn’t realise I was doing it.”</p><p>Timothy shifted in the pillows.</p><p>“You do love me, Harry.”</p><p>“Timothy…”</p><p>“No, I know, you’re not <em>in</em> love with me. But there are a lot of ways to love a person.”</p><p>Harry stared at him.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You love me as a friend,” said Timothy. “A friend you want to fuck. Don’t let it confuse you.”</p><p>“Are you the authority on complicated love, now?”</p><p>Timothy gave a half smile.</p><p>“I sort of am, yeah,” he said.</p><p>“So, how about this,” said Harry. “Can you love someone and hate them at the same time?”</p><p>“That’s the only way <em>I’ve</em> ever known how to do it,” said Timothy. </p><p>“I don’t mean hate, like, they make you feel shit but you still fancy them. I mean, hate, as in, they represent everything you despise, but somehow you’re still worried about them, which is fucked up, because you should be worrying about the people they’re… hurting…”</p><p><em>Potter, you fucking idiot, avada kadavra.</em> Those missing teeth. The heartbreak in his voice when he asked if Harry wanted to get him killed.</p><p>“Yes,” said Timothy, with a sympathetic look in his eyes. “That’s how it goes, sometimes.” </p><p>There was pause.</p><p>“He was a Death Eater, wasn’t he? Draco Malfoy.”</p><p>Harry nodded. Timothy smiled.</p><p>“I’m much simpler, you know. It’ll be much easier for everyone if you just fall in love with me.”<br/>Harry laughed.</p><p>“Yeah, it would be.” He gently touched Timothy on the nose. “But.”</p><p>Timothy smiled.</p><p>“It’s sort of nice not feeling like the fuck-up, for once,” he said.</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“Thanks!”</p><p>“Anytime,” said Timothy. </p><p><br/>Harry didn’t even try to sleep. He sat up in bed and watched Timothy. <em>It’ll be much easier for everyone if you just fall in love with me</em>. It would be. And yet, when he thought of the way Malfoy had softly touched his arm and called him K, he knew that Malfoy was still in love with him. It drove him <em>crazy</em>, thinking that.</p><p>He debated it all night, but by morning, he knew he had to do the right thing. He had to tell the auror department about Malfoy’s role in Anna’s death. </p><p>He flooed into the Ministry feeling as if he was pushing a dagger into Malfoy’s back. He was desperate to get it over with, but to his dismay, the auror department was hectic and busy. Robards was too busy to see him. </p><p>“I’ll have a minute after lunch,” he told Harry. So Harry sat in his office, pretending to do work, his heart hammering. It would mean the Kiss for Malfoy. He wouldn’t be able to escape; ex-Death Eaters were too easy to track. It still wasn’t too late for Harry to back out, to make something up as to why he needed to speak to Robards—only a girl was dead, and Harry had <em>seen</em> Malfoy murder that man. Harry had no choice. He <em>had</em> to turn him in. It didn’t matter that there were mitigating circumstances, Harry told himself. That Malfoy hadn’t had any options… that Harry had forced him to quit (“<em>You don’t know what you’re sending me back to</em>,” Malfoy had said, but Harry hadn’t <em>listened</em>)… </p><p>It didn’t matter. People were dying. Malfoy wasn’t the person he had thought he was. Harry had to do the right thing, no matter how wrong it felt.</p><p>After lunch, he went to Robards’ office.</p><p>“Well, Harry, what can I do for you?” asked Robards, putting down his pen with a tight smile. He probably thought Harry was going to quit. </p><p>“It’s about Draco Malfoy—”</p><p>The door opened, and the handsome young intern whose face Harry had briefly borrowed poked his head in.</p><p>“Sorry to interrupt, sir, only they’ve caught the leader of the Knutters!”</p><p>“What?” said Harry and Robards at the same time. The intern let the rest of his body follow his head into the room.</p><p>“Here’s the report, sir!” </p><p>He was glowing. Outside, the news had clearly spread; Harry could hear the beginning sounds of office jubilation. </p><p>Robards looked over the report, his eyebrows climbing higher and higher up his forehead as he read.</p><p>“Fucking Mysteries!” he said, but he was smiling. “They’ve had an agent in there for two years!”</p><p>Harry’s heart faltered. He thought of Draco saying<em> “You have no fucking clue what you’re meddling with! Just trust me and get out!” </em></p><p>“Who is it?” asked Harry.</p><p>“No idea. Must be young, he’s still a trainee.” Robards whistled. “Wouldn’t have fancied that gig, I’ll tell you that for free. This is good news, coming just after that Knutter murder you reported yesterday, Harry.”</p><p>“Was that definitely done by Knutters, sir?” asked Harry. </p><p>“Mhm, turns out the girl’s father is a small-time drug pedlar. Seems he was stepping on their toes, and they wanted to encourage him to lay off. This calls for a cigar!”</p><p>“Is the agent okay?”</p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p>“The undercover agent. Did they get him out okay?”</p><p>Robards glanced over his report. </p><p>
  <em>“‘Unable to extract agent.’”</em>
</p><p>“Unable to… what does that mean?”</p><p>“Means he’s toast, poor bugger. Cigar?”</p><p>Harry shook his head. </p><p>“What did you want to see me about?” asked Robards.</p><p>“Er, nothing. I, er, just wanted to say thanks for, er, being a good boss.”</p><p>“Are you all right, Harry? You’re looking a bit peaky.”</p><p>“Yeah, I, uh, I’ve just got a headache.”</p><p>“Better go home and take it easy. I’ll fill you in on who gets drunk first in the celebrations.”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry vaguely.</p><p>He walked to his desk in a dream. He felt whiplashed. Malfoy hadn’t quit. He had gone undercover. That was why he had killed the man; because he had seen Harry, recognised him, and no amount of memory charms could guarantee that he wouldn’t confess to that under torture. Malfoy would have had to kill Harry, if he wanted to keep his cover safe without murdering the man in the chair. </p><p>
  <em>Unable to extract agent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Means he’s toast, poor bugger.</em>
</p><p><br/>“Harry,” said his secretary, knocking on his door as he came in. There wasn’t a good reason for Harry to have a secretary. It was just a prestige thing, really. </p><p>“Hi, Ed,” said Harry. </p><p>“You had a message while you were out.”</p><p>Harry held out a listless hand. </p><p>
  <em>Harry,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco Malfoy here. Come <span class="u">soon</span>.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Timothy</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry stared at the note for several seconds without understanding what he was reading, and then it set in. </p><p>“I’m going home,” he told his secretary. Under a minute later, he was stepping through the grate at Grimmauld Place. </p><p>Timothy sat in an armchair. He clutched the armrests with both hands, and his lips were bitten raw.</p><p>Malfoy sat on the sofa, his head resting on one hand, and the other wrapped up in a scarf and held close to his chest. When he saw Harry, he instantly groped for his wand, although he didn’t point it at him. He merely held it tightly in his fist. </p><p>“Malfoy,” said Harry. </p><p>Malfoy got unsteadily to his feet. He seemed to be scanning Harry for a reaction, as if he didn’t know what to expect.</p><p>“Are you okay?” asked Harry.</p><p>Malfoy’s whole body slumped with evident relief at the realisation that Harry wasn’t planning on attacking him. It made Harry ache.</p><p>“I need to talk to you alone,” said Malfoy. </p><p>“Timothy, will you…?” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy seemed unwilling to go. </p><p>“I don’t think you ought to be alone with a Death Eater, Harry—”</p><p>Malfoy chuckled darkly on the sofa.</p><p>“It’s fine, Timothy,” said Harry. “Give us a second.”</p><p>Timothy nodded, although he seemed unhappy about it. Malfoy watched him leave with a sour expression. When he had shut the door, Malfoy turned to face Harry. </p><p>“Sorry about that,” said Harry, “he’s—”</p><p>“I need to speak to Granger,” interrupted Malfoy. </p><p>“Er, yeah, of course,” said Harry. He cast a patronus telling Hermione to come over immediately. </p><p>Malfoy sank back onto the sofa, still holding his left hand close to his chest. </p><p>“You were undercover,” said Harry. Malfoy didn’t answer. He had started rocking slightly, and he was very white. “You weren’t able to save Anna.”</p><p>“They knew there was a mole,” said Malfoy. “They changed the plan at the last minute. I had put all these protections around the wife, and then they went for the girl instead.”</p><p>“Then I showed up.” </p><p>Malfoy started a dull laugh that turned into a hiss of pain.</p><p>“Yeah. Thanks for that. Just what I needed; a visit from the ex.”</p><p>“What’s wrong with your hand?” asked Harry.</p><p>“It got a bit crushed.”</p><p>“Crushed?”</p><p>“Mhm, just a bit. When they found out about me.” His forehead was damp with sweat. He had closed his eyes and was breathing in short, shuddery breaths.</p><p>“Can I…?” asked Harry, sitting next to him. Malfoy glanced at him—his eyes were so sharp and clever, Harry wanted to <em>own</em> them— and held out his hand. He winced as Harry unwrapped the scarf. </p><p>“Oh, L,” said Harry. </p><p>Malfoy’s fingers were broken and twisted like a gnarled tree after a storm. They were huge, the skin stretching painfully over the grotesque swelling. Blood seeped out from under the fingernails. </p><p>Malfoy had gone slightly green. He turned his face away.</p><p>“Accio pain potion,” said Harry. A little phial came whistling towards him. </p><p>“No,” said Malfoy. “It might interact with whatever they do to fix it.”</p><p>The flames in the fireplace burned green, and Hermione came bursting through them.</p><p>“Harry, is everything— <em>Draco?”</em></p><p>Malfoy stood. His face was screwed up in a sneer that would have rivalled any from their Hogwarts days.</p><p>“Surprised to see me alive, Granger?”</p><p>“Draco— I didn’t know— I swear—”</p><p>“You promised you would get me out! You <em>promised!</em> And then I hand over the prize you’ve been after for the last seven years and you fucking <em>left me there to die!”</em></p><p>“I didn’t know they were going to do that, Draco, I was furious when I found out—”</p><p>“That’s why I was recruited, wasn’t it? Someone you could use and throw away?” </p><p>Hermione shrank against the wall.</p><p>“No! You were already in the Knutters—”</p><p>“As a fucking… <em>finance</em> administrator…I was going to get out… I was…”</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“That’s how they were so rich. You were managing their investments,” he said.</p><p>“Yes, well, it’s not as if the banks would hire me,” snarled Malfoy. </p><p>“You were an obvious choice, Draco,” said Hermione. “We needed someone they trusted. And <em>I</em> knew we could trust you, because of how you changed during the war.”</p><p>Malfoy’s anger seemed to break. He was suddenly on the verge of tears.</p><p>“Right,” he said, looking at his pulverised hand. “And I trusted you— both of you—” he glanced at Harry with glittering, shiny eyes— “I thought… <em>you’re supposed to be the good guys!”</em></p><p>“Why didn’t Mysteries extract him?” asked Harry, who had been filling up with a cold fury ever since Hermione’s arrival. Hermione looked at him pleadingly. </p><p>“I expect— they probably thought it was too risky. We might have lost another agent if we tried.”</p><p>“That’s bollocks and you know it,” said Malfoy.</p><p>“How <em>did</em> you get away?” asked Harry.</p><p>Malfoy shook his head and leant his hip against the edge of the sofa.</p><p>“Someone in the Knutters was loyal to me,” he said, bringing his hand to his chest again with a little gasp of pain. “She’ll be dead by now. If she’s lucky.” He sat down and curled around his hand, pressing his face to the armrest. </p><p>“Let me see that,” said Hermione. </p><p>“I want to go to St Mungo’s.”</p><p>“You can’t,” said Hermione. “There are two dozen Knutters out for your blood. Until we’ve cleaned them up, you had better stay here. Harry’s house is under the Fidelius.” </p><p>Malfoy laughed. It sounded a bit like a sob.</p><p>“I’m not moving in with Harry and his fifteen-year-old boyfriend!”</p><p>“Timothy’s twenty,” said Harry defensively, before realising that he hadn’t contradicted the more important part of that statement. “And he’s not my boyfriend!”</p><p>Malfoy made an incredulous sound. </p><p>“Show me your hand,” said Hermione, with so much authority that Malfoy obeyed. </p><p>“So he’s just a hot twenty-year-old you fuck and live with?” he asked Harry, without looking at him. “Is that right?”</p><p>“Can this wait until I’ve gone?” asked Hermione briskly, as she rummaged around in her tiny beaded purse.</p><p>“I’m not staying here,” said Malfoy. </p><p>Harry knelt beside him. </p><p>“Please stay,” he said. Malfoy clenched his jaw and would not meet his eyes. Then he gave a startled shout of pain.</p><p>“Merlin! What was that!”</p><p>“I’ve just mended all the bones that are still intact,” said Hermione. “For the ones that have been crushed, you’ll need to drink this.”</p><p>She handed him a small glass bottle. Malfoy didn’t take it. </p><p>“Do you think I’m stupid? You’re trying to poison me. I’m a loose end. You’re cleaning up the mess I made when I escaped. If I’m dead, you don’t have to explain to anyone that you hired a Death Eater.”</p><p>“Malfoy. Shut up,” said Hermione, and she took a quick gulp of the potion herself. “There. Are you satisfied?”<br/>Malfoy hesitated, then nodded. He drank the rest of the potion with a grimace. </p><p>“You’re in for a bad time,” said Hermione, getting to her feet. “I’ll come check on you as soon as I can. I’ll set you up a Ministry safe house, but that’ll take about a week. You’ll have to stay here until then.”</p><p>“Can’t I stay with…” began Malfoy.</p><p>“Me and Ron Weasley? I don’t think that would go over too well, do you?”</p><p>Malfoy grit his teeth and looked away, defeated. </p><p>“Fine. One week. Then you find me a safe house,” he said.</p><p>“I’ll see what I can do.”</p><p>Malfoy nodded and winced.</p><p>“Haven’t you got anything for the pain?” Harry asked Hermione.</p><p>“It would counteract the de-crushing agent,” said Hermione.</p><p>“He never listened in potions,” said Malfoy.</p><p>“I have to go report your escape to the Department,” said Hermione, reaching for the floo powder.</p><p>“They’ll have me killed,” said Draco.</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Hermione, but she didn’t sound all that certain.</p><p>“Hermione, can I speak to you for a second?” asked Harry. He grabbed her and led her to the hall. </p><p>“<em>Will</em> they have him killed?” he asked her, in a low voice.</p><p>“It would completely illegal,” said Hermione. </p><p>“That’s reassuring. Mysteries <em>never</em> breaks the rules,” said Harry.</p><p>“Look, between you and me, Harry, your house is the only place where he’ll be safe. Anyone else will turn him over to the Department. I won’t deny that, from the Department’s point of view, Draco surviving that mission is an unexpected inconvenience.”</p><p>“He can’t go into hiding for the rest of his life. He’ll go mad!”</p><p>“I’ll think of something,” said Hermione. “Okay? I promise. Just keep him safe here while I deal with the department. Take some time off work.”</p><p>“Fine,” said Harry. “Okay.”</p><p>Malfoy was curled up on the sofa when they returned to the sitting room. </p><p>“It was an amazing thing you did, Draco,” said Hermione. </p><p>Malfoy didn’t answer. Hermione cast Harry a helpless look, then stepped into the fireplace and flooed away. </p><p>“Shall I take you to the guest bedroom?” asked Harry.</p><p>Malfoy unfurled himself from the sofa, holding his hand gingerly to his chest. </p><p>“Lead the way,” he said. </p><p>Harry took him to the room next to his. Timothy’s was down the hall. </p><p>“I can lend you—”</p><p>“That’s all right,” said Malfoy, tersely. </p><p>“Malfoy, I…”</p><p>“Look, I know you’re trying to figure out if you want to kiss me or hit me, but I’m really very tired, and—”</p><p>“I’m sorry I hit you. That was fucked up.”</p><p>“Please go, Harry.”</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Er, if you need anything, I’m just next door.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of disturbing you and Timmy.”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes and left. </p><p><br/>Timothy was in the kitchen. </p><p>“You all right?” asked Harry.</p><p>“Isn’t he a dangerous criminal?” asked Timothy.</p><p>“No,” said Harry.</p><p>“Oh,” said Timothy, wrapping his hands around his mug of tea. “I wasn’t sure.”</p><p>“Are you all right?” asked Harry, again.</p><p>“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” </p><p>“Yes,” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy nodded, looking into his mug. </p><p>“I’ll, I’ll find somewhere else to live.”</p><p>“What? No,” said Harry. </p><p>“He’s not keen on me,” said Timothy. </p><p>“That’s just because he feels threatened,” said Harry. “Once he realises—”</p><p>“That you don’t care about me?”</p><p>“Of course I care about you!”</p><p>“Ah,” said Malfoy, at the kitchen door. “Sorry. Was just after a glass of water.”</p><p>Timothy got up and fetched him one. Harry stood rooted to the floor, unable to explain himself without wounding Timothy. </p><p>“Thank you,” said Malfoy. “Sorry for interrupting.” He was gone before Harry could find his words.</p><p>“Harry,” said Timothy quietly. “You’re really bad at this.”</p><p>“You’re not moving out,” said Harry. “And neither is he. It’ll be fine.”</p><p>“He’s handsome,” said Timothy, looking at his own reflection in the back of a spoon.</p><p>“So are you,” said Harry.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Timothy, “I guess. I peaked already.”</p><p>“You’re <em>twenty</em>.”</p><p>“Exactly,” said Timothy, and Harry didn’t have the heart to argue with him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At midnight, when Harry went to the bathroom, he saw that Malfoy’s light was still on. He stood outside the door, wondering whether he should knock. </p><p>In the end, he just said,</p><p>“L?”</p><p>He heard Malfoy moving about in the room, and then Malfoy’s voice, just on the other side of the door. </p><p>“What do you want?”</p><p>Harry leant his forehead against the wood.</p><p>“Did I wake you up?”</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Harry nodded, even though he knew Malfoy couldn’t see him.</p><p>“I feel…I feel grateful,” said Harry. “That you’re alive.”</p><p>“It hasn’t really sunk in yet,” said L, after a moment.</p><p>“I’m sitting down,” said Harry, sinking with his back to the door. He heard L sit, too. </p><p>Harry tilted his head so that he was speaking into the crack of the door. </p><p>“I missed you like crazy.”</p><p>L’s breath hitched. Harry was surprised by how near it sounded, just the other side of that crack. He couldn’t tell if it was because of what he had said, or because L was in pain.</p><p>“Are you okay?” asked Harry. “Can I get you anything?”</p><p>“No. Yes. I just… I don’t quite know what to make of you.”</p><p>“Try saying how you feel,” suggested Harry. </p><p>He heard L’s low laugh.</p><p>“Tell you how I feel…!”</p><p>“Please, L.”</p><p>L sighed. </p><p>“I thought doing good would feel better than this,” he said. </p><p>“You’re thinking of the Knutter who helped you escape,” said Harry.</p><p>“It was Pansy.”</p><p>“Oh, Draco. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“You’re calling me by all sorts of names, there, Harry.”</p><p>“They’re all you.”</p><p>He could hear L breathing. Harry wanted so badly to open the door and force his way in, to sweep L up in his arms.</p><p>He didn’t. </p><p>“I’m sorry for how I reacted after the Reveal,” he said, after almost a minute had passed. </p><p>“Let’s not do this, Harry.”</p><p>“It was just that: a reaction. It wasn’t how I actually felt, when I thought about it. I was just… surprised. I mean, it doesn’t excuse it, but suddenly I could only see you as you were at school, not as you really are—”</p><p>“Just yesterday you told me I was, and I quote, <em>bad.”</em></p><p>“You’d just AKed a guy!”</p><p>L sighed again.</p><p>“I’m tired,” he said, “and I’m in pain, and I’ve lost a friend. I don’t want to have to… I can’t defend myself to you anymore. I can’t convince you to…I’m just tired, Harry.”</p><p>“You don’t have to defend yourself. That’s what I’m saying,” said Harry.</p><p>“Yes, now. And then new information will come in, and it will be all Get Out, You Death Eater Scum. Again.”</p><p>“Is there more stuff you’re hiding…?”</p><p>“That’s not the point—oh, never mind. Go to bed.”</p><p>Harry listened for the sound of L standing up, but it didn’t come. L was waiting for him to leave. </p><p>“I’m really sorry about Pansy,” said Harry. </p><p>“Thank you,” said L thickly. </p><p>“I wish you would let me hold you.”</p><p>“Not a good idea,” said L. Harry could hear him crying, and it felt like a physical pain in Harry’s chest.</p><p>“Okay,” said Harry. “I’ll just stay here, then.”</p><p>He listened as L’s sobs quietened and finally stopped entirely. </p><p>“Are you still there?” asked L.</p><p>“Yes,” said Harry.</p><p>“You should go to bed.”</p><p>“In a bit,” said Harry. L laughed a watery laugh.</p><p>“Stubborn,” he said.</p><p>“Determined,” said Harry. “Stupid, and sorry, and in love with you.”</p><p>L didn’t answer. Harry wasn’t sure he had heard. After a few minutes had gone by, Harry said “L?” and was greeted only with silence. L had fallen asleep, just on the other side of the door. </p><p><br/>Harry woke up in his own bed. There was note in Timothy’s handwriting on the bedside table.</p><p>
  <em>I can’t believe I’m going to have to walk you through this. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>1. You’ll crick your neck falling asleep on the floor like that. You are <span class="u">old</span>. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>2. Don’t be such a creeper, you’re going to freak him out!!</em>
</p><p>Harry laughed a little and went back to sleep. </p><p>When he went down to breakfast the next morning, Draco was already in the kitchen, making an omelette. Harry hadn’t even known there were eggs.</p><p>“You should check those are still good,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco looked scornful.</p><p>“Everything in your fridge is past its sell-by date. You’re a pathetic excuse for an adult.”</p><p>Harry’s chest constricted at the insult. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said, trying to laugh, but not quite managing it. “I know.”</p><p>Draco frowned, then opened the tea cupboard. </p><p>“Don’t—” said Harry, but it was too late. The dozens of poorly stacked tea boxes came tumbling down on Draco’s head.</p><p>“Fucking hell, K, doesn’t this stress you out??” asked Draco, batting away loose tea bags as they showered down on him. </p><p>“It—yeah,” said Harry, a catch in his throat. </p><p>Draco straightened up. </p><p>“How’s your hand?” asked Harry.</p><p>Draco flexed it experimentally.</p><p>“Good. Better. It feels fine.”</p><p>“Did you have any other injuries? Your…” Harry gestured towards his own mouth. Draco’s hand flew to cover his own.</p><p>“Teeth. I didn’t think it was that noticeable,” he said. “I couldn’t make the charm work properly, I kept growing fangs.”</p><p>“Hermione will be able—”</p><p>“Of course,” said Draco, still covering his mouth. “Well. You should, uh, tidy this cupboard.”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco shut his mouth tightly, picked up his plate, and moved towards the door.</p><p>“Didn’t you want tea?” asked Harry. </p><p>“No, I’ll just eat this upstairs.”</p><p>“Oh, okay,” said Harry. “Yeah, see you later!” </p><p>But Draco had already gone. </p><p><br/>Harry pulled every single box of tea out of his tea cupboard and started restacking them. </p><p>Timothy came in while he was doing it.</p><p>“I wondered if you’d ever get around to that,” he said. </p><p>Harry didn’t say anything.</p><p>“Are you all right, Harry?” </p><p>There were too many <em>fucking</em> boxes. Seized by an intense and sudden hopelessness, Harry took all the boxes and threw them in the bin. </p><p>“…Harry?”</p><p>“I’m <em>fine</em>,” said Harry, and stormed out, fully aware that he was behaving like a child. </p><p>He went to the London plane tree at the back of his garden and kicked it a bit, until his eyes stopped feeling hot. Then he sat down on the bench beneath it and tried to think seriously about what would happen if Draco wouldn’t take him back.</p><p>He hadn’t truly considered it, till now. Till Draco called him K, and pointed out that the cupboard must be stressing him, and told him to fix it himself. </p><p>Draco wouldn’t trust him again. Harry sensed it in a million little ways. At the end of a week, Draco would leave and Harry would have to figure out how to be a <em>person</em> without someone to guide and be guided by. </p><p>It was a devastatingly lonely prospect.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The garden door opened, and Draco came out. Harry didn’t look at him. He had a superstitious feeling that if he looked at him, Draco would disappear.</p><p>He felt, rather than saw, Draco sit on the far end of the bench. </p><p>“Just had a little chat with our good friend, Timmy,” said Draco. </p><p>Harry didn’t say anything.</p><p>“He said you were a bit upset.”</p><p>Harry drew his legs up onto the bench. </p><p>“I’m fine, I just…” he risked a glance at Draco and was appalled to see that he was watching Harry with steady grey eyes, handsome and perfect and distant. “Do you believe that I’m sorry, at least?”</p><p>Draco tilted his head.</p><p>“Sure,” he said. </p><p>“…but that’s not enough?”</p><p>Draco broke his gaze away.</p><p>“Harry… something you said after the Reveal—”</p><p>“Literally everything I said was bollocks.”</p><p>Draco shook his head.</p><p>“No. You were right. I asked if you thought I should never be forgiven, and you said you shouldn’t have to forgive me. And that’s… about right, I think.”</p><p>“No,” said Harry. “No, because—”</p><p>“No, seriously, it was a good point. I believe… well. <em>Most</em> of the time, I believe I deserve to be happy again. Some day. But you and your friends, and… God… a <em>lot</em> of people, have the right to hate me. For the rest of my life. And that’s fine. I don’t like it, but I’m okay with it; it’s fair enough.”</p><p>“I don’t hate you,” said Harry.</p><p>Draco didn’t seem to notice that Harry had spoken.</p><p>“When I saw who you were at the Reveal,” he went on, “I thought it might still work, because I knew a certain side of you—”</p><p>“You do know me,” said Harry. “You were right about that. It didn’t matter that it was anonymous. You know me better than anyone.”</p><p>Draco smiled and shook his head.</p><p>“A <em>side</em> of you,” he said, “that I shouldn’t have been able to see. It’s like…” </p><p>He paused, folding his hands together in a graceful, purposeful gesture and pressing his lips to his knuckles. </p><p>“It’s like you let something toxic in under your armour,” he said. </p><p>“What are you <em>talking</em> about?” asked Harry.</p><p>“Me. I’m a toxic thing to you. I always have been.”</p><p>“That’s ridiculous,” said Harry. “You made me happier than I can ever remember being.”</p><p>“Right, well, sure,” said Draco. “I let you in under my armour, too. Which I suppose suggests that in some other version of the world, we… but then, I wouldn’t be <em>me</em>, if I hadn’t been a Death-… and you wouldn’t be you, either, if… so…”</p><p>“Please don’t use some philosophical, parallel-universe bullshit theory to break up with me,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco looked up in surprise.</p><p>“Break-up? Harry, we broke up when you hit me.”</p><p>Harry put his face in his hands.</p><p>“I know. Fuck. I know.”</p><p>“We’ve always had a violent relationship. I don’t want…I think it would mix me up, to have that violence come into…”</p><p>He waved his hand vaguely between them. </p><p>“Yeah, you don’t want to be in an abusive relationship, I get it,” said Harry.</p><p>“Not abusive, exactly, just—”</p><p>“I can’t tell you how <em>instantly</em> I knew I’d fucked up, Draco.”</p><p>Draco stood. Harry watched him intently as Draco reached up to touch a leaf. </p><p>“It was natural, I think,” said Draco, after a moment. He plucked the leaf from the branch; but it tore. “There are clearly parts of us that are…”</p><p>His fingers were completely healed. He shredded the leaf ably, nimbly. </p><p>“…compatible,” he continued. “But you were right, when you said I didn’t know you. I didn’t know about all the parts of you that were wrong for me, and you didn’t know about mine. So. It’s over.”</p><p>The sunshine scattered through the leaves. There was an ant crawling busily up the bench slats. Harry watched it, stunned. </p><p>“But I love you,” he said. </p><p>Draco laughed quietly. </p><p>“I love you too, K,” he said. “That’s not the problem.”</p><p>Harry got to his feet. He took Draco’s wrist, drew him close, put one hand in Draco’s soft hair.</p><p>“If we’re in love, can’t we figure everything else out?” he asked.</p><p>Draco’s eyes fell on Harry’s lips. He shook his head. </p><p>“It’s not that simple.”</p><p>“Why not?” asked Harry. </p><p>“I don’t want to be with someone who only loves bits of me,” said Draco.</p><p>“I don’t only love bits of you. I love <em>you</em>.”</p><p>Draco leant his face forward. He seemed to be doing it despite himself.</p><p>They kissed. When their lips touched, Harry was ready for the anguish. He had been feeling it slowly all morning, and if it crested in him like a wave of agony, it wasn’t surprising, because that was how endings felt.</p><p>Draco stepped away.</p><p>“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. </p><p>“L,” said Harry.</p><p>“Don’t,” said Draco. “It was perfect, and now it’s over, so just…don’t, yeah?”</p><p>“You can’t forgive me, either,” said Harry. “That’s what this is about. I betrayed you when I reacted like that, and so… you think… neither of us can forgive each other.”</p><p>Draco grimaced.</p><p>“Something like that,” he said. He reached out and brushed Harry’s hair out of his face, running one finger over Harry’s scar.</p><p>Harry thought of Draco getting out of prison and falling straight into Croome’s clutches. He thought of Timothy, and of Erica, who came to the store, and taught Timothy about gaslighting. He thought of how complicated love was, once it had been used against you, and how Draco deserved something simple.</p><p>“I’m willing to get hurt for you, L,” he said. Draco stood still as Harry stroked his pale eyebrows. “But I understand why you aren’t. So if you don’t want… this… then.”</p><p>“I don’t,” said Draco. </p><p>Harry nodded and took a step back. </p><p>“Okay,” he said. </p><p>There was a horrible, heart-rending silence, then Harry stuck out his hand.</p><p>“Friends,” he said. </p><p>“What,” said Draco, staring at his hand. </p><p>“Friends,” said Harry again, holding his hand out more insistently. Draco took it. His fingers were bony and cold. Harry wanted to warm them against his neck. </p><p>“All right,” said Draco, looking uncertain. “You’re not going to… this isn’t some kind of trick?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” said Draco unhappily.</p><p>Harry crossed his arms as they made their way back to the house, walking with a foot apart from each other.</p><p>“You think I’m unpredictable,” he said.</p><p>“I just don’t know you, Harry.”</p><p>“You do.”</p><p>“I really don’t,” said Draco. </p><p>Timothy was watching them from the kitchen window. He darted behind the curtains when he saw them looking at him. Harry laughed.</p><p>“He’s such an obvious kid, sometimes.”</p><p>“Kid? He’s twenty,” said Draco. </p><p>“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t patronise him.”</p><p>Draco seemed to be battling with himself. As Harry opened the door to the house, Draco put a light hand on his arm.</p><p>“Are you sleeping with him?”</p><p>Harry closed the door and turned to Draco.</p><p>“I have slept with him, yeah. But I wasn’t planning on doing it again.”</p><p>Draco stared off in the direction of the kitchen.</p><p>“Bad lay, was he?”</p><p>“No. But it was selfish of me to do it at all, when I’m so hung up on you.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Draco. </p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>“Sorry,” said Harry. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”</p><p>“No, that’s.” Draco smiled fleetingly at him as he let himself into the house. “That’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Harry went to his room, but Draco lingered downstairs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It will take me minute to get the next chapter up! I apologise</p><p>-----</p><p>Check out this GORGEOUS illustration mywaywardsin made of Draco in this chapter!!!<br/>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967244/chapters/57645454?show_comments=true&amp;view_full_work=false#comment_301343659</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>Harry was dreading dinner. They ate in the dining room.</p><p>“Were you in the Death Eaters long?” asked Timothy, as if he were inquiring about Draco’s pet hobby. </p><p>Harry kicked him under the table. It did not have the intended effect.</p><p>“Ow, Harry! You kicked me!”</p><p>Draco had the most beautiful table manners. He cut his meat as if it was as soft as butter, when in reality Kreacher had let it get rather tough and stringy.</p><p>“Two years,” he said. </p><p>“My parents are big fans of Voldemort,” said Timothy.</p><p>“So were mine,” said Draco. </p><p>“Don’t bother Draco about all this, Timothy,” said Harry. Draco and Timothy both looked at him.</p><p>“He’s not bothering me,” said Draco. </p><p>“Maybe <em>we’re</em> bothering <em>him</em>,” said Timothy to Draco. Draco smiled.</p><p>“You might be onto something, Timmy.” </p><p>“It’s not exactly dinner table conversation, is it?” said Harry. </p><p>“What isn’t? Voldemort, or my parents?” asked Draco, a dangerous edge to his voice.</p><p>“Harry said I couldn’t be blood purist if I wanted to live here,” said Timothy blithely. “Are you a pureblood?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Draco. “But I agree with Harry. It’s nonsense, and people only believe in it because they’re ignorant and insecure.”</p><p>Timothy looked thoughtful.</p><p>“Maybe. Although you have to admit muggle culture is inferior.”</p><p>“Timothy,” said Harry.</p><p>“Their books are better,” said Draco. </p><p>“Are they?” asked Timothy, at the same time as Harry said, “what?”</p><p>Draco shrugged.</p><p>“I don’t read much,” said Timothy, looking unconvinced. “Anyway, think about things like… muggle medicine. That’s much worse.”</p><p>Draco shrugged again.</p><p>“Only in some respects. They have a much better understanding of mental illness, for instance.”</p><p>“Mental what?”</p><p>“I rest my case,” said Draco.</p><p>It occurred to Harry that he hadn’t really troubled to talk to Timothy about his prejudices. He had just forbidden them. He was silent as Timothy and Draco argued back and forth about blood purity and muggle culture. Draco was steady, patient.</p><p>“I used to think that, too,” he said often, before completely and persuasively undermining whatever bigoted opinion Timothy had just put forth. By the time they were finishing dessert, Timothy appeared to be seriously reconsidering his entire belief system.</p><p>“It’s just weird,” he said, as Harry ate the last bite of his chocolate cake. Draco had eaten his neatly. </p><p>He wasn’t always neat. Harry remembered what he looked like in bed; begging, wild-eyed. </p><p>“Weird, how?” asked Draco.</p><p>“To talk to someone who thought like me but changed their mind. Mr. Croome always said—”</p><p>Draco’s hand froze on his glass.</p><p>“Alfred Croome?” he asked. </p><p>“Yes. You worked for him too, didn’t you?” </p><p>“I was looking for you there,” said Harry quietly. </p><p>Draco frowned at him, then turned his gaze to Timothy. </p><p>“You were his apprentice? Recently?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Timothy.</p><p>Draco lined up his spoon and fork on his plate. </p><p>“Is he… well?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>There was a long silence. Draco made a show of looking at his pocket watch.</p><p>“Oh, it’s late,” he said.</p><p>“I’ll clear the table,” said Timothy. </p><p>“Thank you,” said Harry.</p><p>When Timothy was gone with the plates, Draco stood.</p><p>“Did you, uh, meet Mr. Croome?”</p><p>Harry nodded. Draco paused by the door, his hand on the lintel.</p><p>“I felt very grown-up when I was eighteen,” he said. “But Timothy seems so <em>young</em>, and he’s twenty.”</p><p>“He hasn’t been through a war, in fairness,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco’s eyes flitted over to him. </p><p>“Yeah. I guess I didn’t really have naivety as an excuse.”</p><p>“An excuse for what?” asked Harry. Draco frowned and looked away.</p><p>“I’ll go help Tim with the dishes.”</p><p>Harry left them to it for twenty minutes. When he finally went to the kitchen, Draco was speaking in a low, earnest voice, and Timothy was nodding, his eyes on the floor, his arms crossed. Draco had one hand on Timothy’s shoulder.</p><p>“Everything okay?” asked Harry. </p><p>Timothy and Draco instantly tried to look busy with the dishes. Both were unsuccessful. </p><p>“Yep,” said Timothy. </p><p>“Well, goodnight,” said Draco, filtering past Harry. </p><p>“Goodnight. Oh, and Draco—” Harry followed him into the corridor. He lowered his voice. “Thank you for talking to Timothy about blood purity, and all that.”</p><p>Draco nodded.</p><p>“Harry… I don’t know if I ought to tell you this, but… well, if you’re sleeping with him…”</p><p>“I’m not,” said Harry. Draco rolled his eyes.</p><p>“It’s just that Mr. Croome could be a little… predatory. Uh, sexually. So…”</p><p>“Yeah, I know. He was creepy as hell. That’s why I told Timothy to come live here.”</p><p>Draco blinked.</p><p>“You knew?”</p><p>“That Mr. Croome scopes out young men with no options and pressures them into sleeping with him? Yeah, I picked up on that.”</p><p>Draco flushed a deep red.</p><p>“All right. Well. Just be careful with him, that’s all. It might have messed him up a bit.”</p><p>“Messed him up how?” asked Harry, gently touching Draco’s forearm, because he knew they were no longer really talking about Timothy. </p><p>“I don’t know, it just might have made him feel a bit worthless and confused, so just don’t, you know, don’t fuck him around, because he might find it really hard to deal with.”</p><p>Harry took Draco’s hand and squeezed it. </p><p>“Okay,” he said. “I’ll bear that in mind.”</p><p>“Thank you,” said Draco. He took his hand out of Harry’s and made his way to the stairs. “Goodnight, then.”</p><p>“Goodnight, L.”</p><p>Draco paused on the stairs for a fraction of a second, then carried on. </p><p>Harry couldn’t sleep. He wore his thoughts out from thinking them. </p><p>After an hour of restless, circling misery, he got out an old notebook and started writing. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Dear L,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You said you don’t know me. Maybe you’re right; I guess it depends what constitutes knowing someone. Like, do I know you? I know what you looked like when you were angry as a child. I know about your prolonged and regrettable slicked-back-hair phase. I know you joined the Death Eaters at sixteen and I know you hated it. I know you’re a good flyer, but easily distracted and a cheat (you would make a better chaser. I’ve always thought that). I know that you’re, like, a real adult when it comes to finances. I know you get stressed out when things are messy (on every level). I know that you cried all night when your father died because you were scared no one would ever love you again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Is that knowing you?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If we separate the two ways of knowing a person into 1. The Facts and 2. The Soul (sorry to use a word like “soul”, I know that’s cringe), I think we know each other pretty well in the second way. But I get that the first way is important, too. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is not me trying to get you back, because you’re right. You deserve something easier than this.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You were my boyfriend for a year, though, and so I also feel like you deserve to know more of the category 1 stuff about me. Facts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fact 1. My parents are dead. You know that, obviously. But I don’t know if you know about who actually raised me? It was my aunt and uncle. They hated me, which sort of added insult to injury. Like, it was already going to be shit that my parents were dead, but on top of that, their replacements made me sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fact 2. No one loved me till I was eleven, which has got to have an impact on a person. I mean, it worked out, right, because I’m independent. And that’s a good thing! I was gallivanting around Hogwarts slaying monsters when I was eleven! (As an adult, I recognise that that is both kind of cool and also <span class="u">horrifying</span>.) </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I sometimes doubt whether I’d ever have accomplished anything, if I’d been loved as a child. There was something about feeling like no one would care if I died that made it easier to be brave. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>That’s one of the things that trips me up, on the Bad Days. You know what I’m talking about; you were good at dealing with them, in Mysteries. You took care of me. No one’s ever done that, really, not in that way, like, Oh, I see you are worried about this thing so I just took care of it for you. I think that parents must do that for their kids. It’s probably all fucked up and Freudian that I liked it so much when you did it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thank you for taking such good care of me. You’ve taught me a lot about what I’m looking for.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fuck, this letter is actually really long. What an imposition. Obviously no reply needed, I just… was really bothered when you said you didn’t know me? Because if you don’t, then no one does? And that’s too fucking lonely to even contemplate, so. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I have no clue how to sign this off,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>K</em>
</p><p>The light was still on in Draco’s room when Harry slipped the letter under his door. Harry lay awake for hours, but no response came, and finally he fell asleep.</p><p>When he woke up, there was a slip of paper on the floor by his door.</p><p>
  <em>Harry,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fact 1. I did kill Anna. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Malfoy</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>Harry burnt the note. It was incriminating, and he didn’t want it lying around the house. </p><p>This was the kind of fact Draco thought would lead to Harry calling him Death Eater scum. But Harry had been dealing with Knutter cases through the aurors for years, now. If Draco had killed Anna, it had to have been because the alternative was worse. </p><p>He had lied about it, though, when Harry found him in the warehouse. </p><p>“Morning,” said Timothy, in the kitchen. </p><p>“Hey. Seen Draco yet?”</p><p>“He’s in the library.”</p><p>“Coffee?” offered Harry. </p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“What did he talk to you about, yesterday?” asked Harry, as he handed Timothy a mug. Timothy jerked one shoulder.</p><p>“Just, you know. Mr. Croome.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? What did he say?”</p><p>Timothy took a sip of his coffee, put it down, and laughed his hopeless laugh. </p><p>“I don’t know, something about uneven power dynamics and… I don’t know. It was helpful, though.”</p><p>“Helpful how?”</p><p>Timothy drummed his fingers on the table. </p><p>“He understood.”</p><p>“Because he’d been through it,” said Harry.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess.” Timothy glanced up. “So, are you guys back together?”</p><p>“No,” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy sighed.</p><p>“You’re terrible. I can’t believe I’m going to have to help you woo your own boyfriend.”</p><p>“He’s not my—we’re not getting back together. It’s too messy. There’s too much baggage.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Timothy, with a slow grin. “So, you’re still available?”</p><p>“I thought you had something going with Erica,” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy pursed his lips into a coy moue. </p><p>“I’m still looking around,” he said. “Figuring out what my prospects are.”</p><p>Harry ran a hand over the back of his neck.</p><p>“Listen, Timothy, I don’t think we should… again.”</p><p>Timothy rocked back on his chair.</p><p>“It was just a bit of fun,” he said. </p><p>“Yeah, well, I’m not in a place for a bit fun, right now.”</p><p>“No?” asked Timothy, innocently. “Only looking for a serious relationship with me? It’s faster than I wanted, Harry, but I’ll marry you, if you insist.”</p><p>Harry threw a dish cloth at him. </p><p>“Fine,” said Timothy, laughing. “You’re pining away for gloomy old Malfoy. No further explanation necessary. Although I do think you’re giving up on him rather easily.”</p><p>“He hasn’t had a lot of choices in the last… decade,” said Harry. “Now that he’s made one about me, I want to respect it.”</p><p>“Horribly noble of you, and very stupid,” said Timothy, “but what do I know? I’m just a shop assistant.”</p><p>“A very good one, from what I hear. Where is Draco, anyway? Have you seen him?”</p><p>“He said he’d be in the library.” </p><p>Harry thanked him and made his way to upstairs. But the library was empty. Neither was Draco in his room, when Harry knocked.</p><p>Perplexed, Harry went to his study, where he found Draco going through his Mysteries case files. The top secret ones Hermione had been sending him to keep him abreast of the Ministry’s attacks on the remaining Knutters.</p><p>Harry froze.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” </p><p>Draco hastily put down the files he had been looking at.</p><p>“I was—tidying,” he said. </p><p>“Those files are private,” said Harry. </p><p>“I wasn’t reading them.”</p><p>Harry gave him a hard look.</p><p>“I was only reading enough so that I could figure out how to sort them,” amended Draco. “You said—in your letter—about me taking care of you, and—and I know how bad you are at filing, and I thought it might be stressing you, so I figured I’d just—”</p><p> “D’you want a drink?” asked Harry, going to his bar cart. </p><p>“It’s ten in the morning,” said Draco.</p><p>Harry poured out two whiskies. </p><p>“Thanks,” said Draco, looking bleakly into his glass as he swirled it. He had sunk into the desk chair. Harry leant against the desk, facing Draco, their legs brushing together.</p><p>“You lied to me, in the warehouse,” said Harry. “You said you hadn’t killed her.”</p><p>Draco laughed.</p><p>“How do you think you’d have reacted if I’d told the truth?”</p><p>“I’m sorry you had to kill her,” said Harry.</p><p>Draco’s eyes darted up to meet his, a tiny crease between his eyebrows. </p><p>“They were torturing her, right?” said Harry. Draco looked down again.</p><p>“I don’t usually interfere. It would be too… Severus never interfered, you know. You have to think about the long game. But she was so young.”</p><p>“Didn’t it make them suspicious?”</p><p>Draco laughed again.</p><p>“Of course. Why do you think I’d been put on duty with that man? They wanted me to prove my mettle. It was even more suspicious when he was painlessly killed, as well. I had to move all my plans up by several months; it was a fucking mess.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Draco took a sip of his whiskey.</p><p>“Bad things happen all the time. It doesn’t bear thinking about,” he said. </p><p>“I think you did the right thing,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco looked at him.</p><p>“You do?”</p><p>“Yeah. I mean—I assume you couldn’t save her?”</p><p>Draco looked down.</p><p>“It’s—complicated. I could have. Sort of. Although, honestly, I don’t know what kind of quality of life she’d have had if I’d rescued her at that point… and they’d have come after her and her family… and it would have exposed me, and I wouldn’t have been able to pin down the leader… but. Yeah. I could have saved her.”</p><p>“Not much of a choice,” said Harry.</p><p>“But a choice, all the same.”</p><p>“Most people don’t have to make those kinds of decisions,” said Harry. </p><p>“You’re awfully sympathetic, all of a sudden.”</p><p>“You thought I’d be angry at you. That’s why you signed the note ‘Malfoy’.”</p><p>Draco set his drink down on the desk.</p><p>“Be honest. What was your first thought when you read it?”</p><p>Harry put his drink down too, and let his leg fall further against Draco’s.</p><p>“I burnt it. Didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands and get you into trouble.”</p><p>Draco looked at him with clear, hopeful eyes.</p><p>“Don’t… don’t lie to me again,” said Harry. “I hate being lied to.”</p><p>Draco dropped his head.</p><p>“I can’t promise that,” he said.</p><p>Harry waited for Draco to explain further, but he didn’t. Finally, Harry stood and went to the door.</p><p>“Thanks for tidying my desk,” he said.</p><p>“Your letter was horrible,” said Draco.</p><p>“Er,” said Harry.</p><p>“Of course people cared if you died. You should have seen how people reacted, when the Dark Lord killed you. It was like the end of the world.”</p><p>“I know people love me, now,” said Harry. “But it’s like snacking on crisps when you’re ravenous.”</p><p>“I don’t follow.”</p><p>“It’s—unstable. There’s not… a foundation… it all feels conditional. Except for Hermione.”</p><p>Draco made a derisive sound.</p><p>“Yes, she’s so very decent and trustworthy, that Hermione Granger.”</p><p>“She didn’t know Mysteries were going to turn on you like that.”</p><p>“She knew plenty when she got me to sign my Unspeakable contract without reading the fine print,” spat Draco. </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Harry thought of fifth year, and the cursed list of names for Dumbledore’s Army. Hermione’s morality did seem to have a ruthless streak, when it came to binding magical contracts.</p><p>“Did it say you had to go undercover?”</p><p>Draco gave a bitter laugh.</p><p>“That was the least of it.”</p><p>“What—”</p><p>“Azkaban. If I quit.”</p><p>“For… for how long?”</p><p>“Life.”</p><p>Harry swallowed.</p><p>“Did you know? When I told you to quit?”</p><p>Draco shook his head. </p><p>“No. I love you very much, but I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it, if I’d known. Six months was quite enough Azkaban to be getting along with.”</p><p>Harry’s heart had leapt up uncomfortably at the casual way Draco had dropped “I love you very much”. But L had always been like that; easily, generously affectionate. It came naturally to him; probably because he had been loved so thoroughly as a child. It was his native language in a way that it never would be, for Harry. </p><p>“I wish I hadn’t said… any of it,” said Harry.</p><p>“But you did,” said Draco. “So.”</p><p>Harry didn’t know how to answer that, so he inclined his head, muttered something about finishing a book, and left. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/><em>Dear L,</em> wrote Harry that night, after another dinner of listening to Draco talking Timothy out of blood supremacy.</p><p>
  <em>Fact 3. A lot of people have lied to me. My aunt and uncle, firstly. They told me my parents were killed in a car crash, etc, etc, you can read most of this in the unauthorised Harry Potter biography if you’re interested. It’s disturbingly accurate.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dumbledore’s the main culprit, though, and I’m not even sure he ever did lie to me. Lies by omission, I suppose. He made me believe I was one thing (special, loved, cherished) and then it turned out he meant for me to be another (doomed, sacrificial, choiceless). </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You knew me well enough to know just what bruise to poke as you left, after the Reveal. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mad Eye Moody in fourth year was one of my favourite teachers. Weirdly, he still is, looking back on it, even though it turned out he was plotting to kill me (story of my life). I guess what I’m getting at is that I’ve had a few notable instances of bad luck re: trusting people.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Like it turning out that my father was a real shit in school. I’m not sure what I’m getting at, here. People differing from my expectations have, historically, caused me a lot of grief. I’m… not good at dealing with it when they break free of their categories. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I thought Sirius was evil, at first, but he wasn’t. He was your cousin, which feels important, somehow. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When I couldn’t sleep, you used to talk in this particular, soothing voice, about nothing in particular. I would follow the sound of it until my thoughts stopped running. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t know how to piece that together with the other parts of you. I know that’s what upsets you; that I can’t link Malfoy with L, that I jump from one version of you to the other without seeming to understand that they’re intertwined. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fact 4. I’m not usually this introspective. I doubt I’ve ever thought about myself this much in my life. But you make me feel as if there’s some kind of rift in the way I view people, and I want to mend it. That’s another thing you’ve taught me: that talking about <span class="u">feelings</span>, horrible as it is, sometimes makes them less oppressive. As I said; I’m not trying to get you back. The more I think about it, the more I understand how hopeless it is for us to try to trust each other. But I’m grateful to you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>K</em>
  <br/>
  
</p><p>The next morning, Draco’s response was under Harry’s door again. </p><p>
  <em>Harry,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fact 2. I couldn’t wait to join the Death Eaters. I couldn’t wait to have you cowering beneath me. I couldn’t wait to make people fear me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Malfoy</em>
</p><p><br/>As Harry read it, he understood what Draco was doing. </p><p>He went to the kitchen and found that someone had reorganised the tea cupboard. All the boxes were neatly stacked with their labels facing outward.</p><p><em>Stop buying Assam,</em> said a note in Draco’s curved handwriting. <em>You don’t like it. You’re getting it confused with Darjeeling. You like Darjeeling. -D</em></p><p><br/>Draco was in Harry’s study again. He hastily shoved the papers he had been looking at into a drawer when he noticed Harry lounging against the doorframe. </p><p>“I was just—”</p><p>“I already knew your fact,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco’s expression shifted from guilt to distant impassiveness. </p><p>“All right, I’ll expand on it,” he said. “I went to the Dark Lord and begged him to take me.”</p><p>“Because you wanted to have me… er, cowering beneath you, was it?”</p><p>Draco did not react. </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And because you wanted people to fear you,” said Harry.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And because you couldn’t wait to kill muggles.”</p><p>Draco hesitated. </p><p>“I—yes. No. I don’t know.”</p><p>“And because,” Harry went on, “your father was in deep trouble, and your family’s reputation within the Death Eaters was at stake, and it seemed as if there was a chance you could save the day.”</p><p>Draco’s posture was rigid, his hands still resting on the neat piles of paper he had made. </p><p>“What do you want, Harry?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>Draco smiled wanly.</p><p>“You just don’t want to be in the wrong,” he said. “You’re trying to get out of being in the wrong, by empathising with me.”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe,” said Harry. “Is that… bad?”</p><p>“I’m sorry about what I said. After the Reveal. About Dumbledore.”</p><p>“Thank you,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco nodded. </p><p>“Okay, well. I just wanted to…” Harry didn’t know how to finish. He wanted to storm across the room and press every inch of himself up against every inch of Draco, a lost ship finally coming to port. Instead, he pulled his mouth into a smile. “Thank you for organising the tea cabinet.”</p><p>“No problem,” murmured Draco. </p><p>“You’re still sorting out my desk, then?”</p><p>“It’s…” Draco sank into the desk chair. “I keep getting distracted.”</p><p>“You’re really not supposed to be reading my case files, you know. They’re confidential.”</p><p>“I know. But…” he glanced up at Harry with eager, earnest eyes. “The Department of Mysteries is operating at a loss, and I think I know how to fix it. A lot of it comes down to how they distribute resources. The trainee selection process is complete mayhem, from a financial perspective; I mean, it costs a small fortune to train each employee, and half of them quit anyway—if we could design some sort of test, incorporating muggle mental health research, we would be able to have a much more accurate idea of the kind of person who would succeed in the department from the outset—I’m boring you.”</p><p>“You’re not,” said Harry. “I think it’s cool.”</p><p>Draco bent his head over the nearest pile. </p><p>“I don’t want to do field work. I can’t quit, obviously. But I want to make myself useful in the Department, so they won’t send me out undercover again.”</p><p>“They can’t <em>make</em> you do undercover work, surely?”</p><p>“I go to Azkaban if I lose my job for any reason. I bloody well have to do everything they tell me to do.”</p><p>“That can’t be legal. You’ve already served your time.”</p><p>Draco wrinkled his nose. Harry had sudden memory of him doing that when he was L, of catching sight of it and loving it and forgetting it. </p><p>“I believe the theory is that I can’t be trusted not to betray Ministry secrets. In any case, I would have been sent back if I hadn’t signed the contract, because of my work for the Knutters.”</p><p>“You were a finance administrator.”</p><p>“For a gang of violent criminals.”</p><p>It occurred to Harry that this whole <em>friends</em> thing wasn’t going to work, because all Harry wanted to do was climb into Draco’s lap and tell him to stop worrying. </p><p>“Maybe you could do the Department’s finances. Or work in the magical economics sector.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” said Draco softly. </p><p>“You’d be brilliant.”</p><p>Draco frowned.</p><p>“All right, bugger off,” he said. “I really am going to figure out a filing system for you, now.”</p><p>“God, I missed you,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes.</p><p>“You should just get a secretary. Then you wouldn’t notice <em>what</em> happened to me.”</p><p>There was a beat.</p><p>“…that sounded a little more bitter than I feel,” said Draco. </p><p>“Okay,” said Harry. “It sounded pretty bitter. But I’m trying this new thing where I trust you when you tell me things? So I’ll let it go.”</p><p>Draco laughed.</p><p>“Thanks,” he said. “Now fuck off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your parents are dead, aren’t they?” Timothy asked Draco at the dinner table.</p><p>“Timothy,” said Harry, even though he knew by now it was a hopeless cause.</p><p>“Yes,” said Draco. “Yours are alive and well, I gather?”</p><p>“Oh, they’ll live forever, like those starving lab rats who live three times longer than normal,” said Timothy.</p><p>“A warm and affectionate description,” said Draco. </p><p>“My granny was ace, though,” said Timothy. “Absolutely amazing seamstress. She used to make me things all the time. She died when I was fifteen. I loved her to bits.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Harry and Draco at the same time. </p><p>“It’s all right,” said Timothy. “Did you hate your parents, Draco?”</p><p>“You don’t have to answer that,” said Harry.</p><p>“They were lovely to me,” said Draco, a strange expression crossing his face. “They did terrible things—my father, especially—but they were wonderful, to me.” He glanced at Harry. “I was very lucky.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Dear L,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fact 5. I’ve never felt this way before. I think about you all the time. When we were together I felt as if I could finally breathe and get my head above the water, and when you left everything closed back in again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fact 6. I’m not trying to get you back. I’m not. I’m not. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fact 7. Fact 6 was a lie.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tell me to fuck off and I will. But God, we could be good together, Draco Malfoy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry, Potter, K</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Harry woke up, he was discouraged to find there was no note under his door. He got dressed dejectedly, almost certain he knew what the absence meant. </p><p>Draco and Timothy were sitting next to each other at the kitchen table. Draco said something in a low voice that made Timothy laugh, and Timothy pressed his forehead into Draco’s shoulder.</p><p>Harry’s stomach churned.</p><p>“Morning,” he said. Timothy’s laughter thinned and stopped.</p><p>“Morning,” said Draco.</p><p>Harry got his breakfast and sat down at the table. Timothy rested his chin on his knuckles and looked between Harry and Draco.</p><p>“Did something happen?” he asked. “You both look grim. Or is that just what mornings feel like, when you’re old?”</p><p>“Careful. Ageing is harder on people who take pride in their youth,” said Draco. </p><p>“Nothing happened,” said Harry.</p><p>“You slept together,” guessed Timothy. </p><p>“Timmy, darling,” said Draco. “No one likes it when you do this. Scram.”</p><p>“Do what? I’m not doing anything.”</p><p>“You’re pure trouble,” said Draco. “Go provoke someone else.”</p><p>“Oh, all right,” said Timothy. He got up and faced Draco. “Harry’s madly in love with you.”</p><p>“Timothy,” said Harry. </p><p>“He was completely miserable without you. Dreary, that’s what he was.”</p><p>“Timothy!” </p><p>“No, go on,” said Draco. “Was he pining away?”</p><p>“Pining! Like a pine cone.”</p><p>“Seriously, can you not?” interjected Harry.</p><p>“You’ve upset him, Timmy.”</p><p>“A few of your sweet kisses will set him to rights, dear Draco.”</p><p>“What do you know about Draco’s sweet kisses?” asked Harry. </p><p>“Nothing,” said Timothy. “I asked him for one just now, and he wouldn’t oblige.”</p><p>Draco smirked into his mug. </p><p>“Aren’t you going to be late to work?” Harry asked Timothy.</p><p>“Yes! I’ll go. Have a <em>lovely</em> day,” sang Timothy, and flounced out of the kitchen. Harry glared after him.</p><p>“I liked him better when he was cowed and insecure,” he said.</p><p>“He’s still insecure,” said Draco. </p><p>“Did he really try to kiss you?”</p><p>Draco laughed and shook his head. </p><p>“Fucker,” said Harry.</p><p>Draco had already finished eating. He cleared away his plate. </p><p>“About my letter last night,” began Harry. </p><p>“Harry…”</p><p>“Malfoy,” said Harry, as softly and affectionately as if he was saying darling. Draco’s head jerked up, his eyes slightly narrowed.</p><p>“We hate each other,” he said. </p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Harry, standing up and catching Draco’s wrist. Draco’s gaze dropped to Harry’s hand. </p><p>“You don’t trust me,” said Draco. “You never will.”</p><p>“I’m trying,” said Harry, stepping even closer. Draco dipped his head so that their foreheads pressed together.</p><p>“I know you are,” he said quietly. “But we just don’t make sense.”</p><p>“We don’t,” agreed Harry. “It would be so much easier for us to love other people. But I don’t want something easier. I want <em>you</em>.”</p><p>Draco shook his head, his forehead rocking against Harry’s.</p><p>“You want L,” he said.</p><p>“I love you,” said Harry, cupping Draco’s jaw in his hand. “I love how long I’ve known you. I love how you make me feel. I love how much you’ve grown.”</p><p>Draco breathed in sharply. </p><p>“I have… the strongest urge to protect you, Harry,” he said. “Which is ridiculous. Because obviously you can protect yourself. But I… I want to take care of you.”</p><p>“I love that you take care of me,” said Harry. Draco’s lips rested briefly on the corner of his mouth. “Take care of me, Malfoy.”</p><p>Draco’s quiet laugh blew against Harry’s cheek.</p><p>“I see what you’re doing there, Potter.”</p><p>“What am I doing?”</p><p>“Piecing me together.”</p><p>“Let me,” said Harry, and kissed him. </p><p>It was like coming home, this time. Harry pushed Draco until he had him pressed against the kitchen counter.</p><p>Draco broke away.</p><p>“I missed you,” he said. His expression was raw, his voice unsheathed; it was if he was finally being himself again. </p><p>“God, I missed you so much,” said Harry, dropping kisses wherever he could reach. “I missed you like <em>family</em>.”</p><p>Draco made a small noise.</p><p>“Yes,” he said. “Me, too.” He wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him so tightly to his chest that Harry felt all sorts of secret, long-held miseries melt away. </p><p>“I love you,” said Harry. “Please.”</p><p>“Yes,” said Draco. “I’ll take care of you. I love you.”</p><p>“Let’s—I want—come upstairs,” said Harry.</p><p>“Yes,” said Draco. “Yes, good, yes—”</p><p>They tumbled their way to Harry’s bedroom, stopping every other step to press against each other in a fervent panic of love, both reassuring each other—<em>“Are we—will you—does this—<span class="u">yes</span>—”</em></p><p>And the sex was different and the same; slow, and hard, and wide, wide awake. It was familiar and exultant. They called each other Potter and Malfoy, using their softest voices, and came quickly, anti-climactically. </p><p>As Harry cast the cleaning charms, he saw the melancholic look develop like film in Draco’s eyes. </p><p>“Sex makes you sad,” said Harry. </p><p>Draco looked surprised.</p><p>“No, I—” he sighed, and hid his face in his pillow. “A bit.”</p><p>“Why?” asked Harry, trailing one finger down Draco’s spine. Draco edged closer.</p><p>“Makes me feel a little worthless,” he said. “It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>“Because of Croome?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Is that not quite it?”</p><p>“No, it’s not quite it,” said Draco. Harry pulled him up to a sitting position and rested his chin on the top of Draco’s head.</p><p>“We don’t have to have sex,” he said.</p><p>“No, I know,” said Draco. “I never felt like we did.”</p><p>“Is there anything that helps?”</p><p>“This,” said Draco, rubbing his thumb on Harry’s arm where it was draped around his shoulders. “I’m just fucking needy, I guess.”</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“Good,” he said. “I like you that way.”</p><p>“It’s a bit easier now that you know who I am,” said Draco. “Before, it…saddened me to think of the contrast between how you treated me, and how I was scared you would treat me when you found out I was, you know. Me.”</p><p>“A pretty justified fear, it turned out,” said Harry.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Draco.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I honestly don’t know whether to say ‘I forgive you’ or ‘I deserved it’.”</p><p>“Do you forgive me?” asked Harry.</p><p>Draco mouthed absent-mindedly at Harry’s collar bone.</p><p>“Don’t hit me again,” he said.</p><p>“I won’t,” said Harry.</p><p>“Even if we argue.”</p><p>“Draco. I won’t.”</p><p>“You realise that’s what people always say.”</p><p>“Did Croome ever…?”</p><p>“Oh, God, no!” Draco sat up. “Look. Croome…obviously, now that I’m older, I can see that what he did to me was fucked up. But he also took me in when no one else would… he taught me everything I know about economics… he went to my mother’s funeral with me… it isn’t <em>simple</em>.”</p><p>“He used you,” said Harry.</p><p>“I know,” said Draco. “I realised that, eventually.”</p><p>Harry’s stomach grumbled loudly.</p><p>“Oh, you dear thing,” said Draco. “You didn’t finish your breakfast. You must be starving.”</p><p>Draco started to get out of bed, but Harry pulled him back.</p><p>“I’ll survive. Stay!”</p><p>“You stay,” said Draco, disentangling himself and throwing on a jumper and a pair of joggers. “I’ll bring you up a tray.”</p><p>“A tray…?”</p><p>“Breakfast in bed. Tell me you’ve had it before.”</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“Only in the hospital wing, after my yearly misadventures.”</p><p>“That,” said Draco, kissing him on the mouth, “doesn’t count. Wait here.”</p><p>“Draco Malfoy,” said Harry, as Draco made for the door. </p><p>Draco turned around.</p><p>“Yes, Harry Potter?”</p><p>“Will you be my boyfriend?”</p><p>Draco ducked his head with a shy smile. It made Harry want to leap out of bed and kiss it off him. </p><p>“For as long as you’ll have me,” he said, before leaving. </p><p>Harry stretched, letting a luxurious smile spread across his face. He could hear Draco clattering around in the kitchen. The sun came through the window in rich, dusted rays, steeping the room in soundless light. Draco was making him breakfast in bed. Draco was his, for as long as Harry would have him.</p><p>It would be hard, Harry knew. They would have to Talk. There were too many ways in which they had harmed each other for anything to be easy. But it was worth it, to banish the thin loneliness that had plagued Harry his entire life.</p><p>Harry was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of an explosion downstairs, so loud that his bed trembled. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello I have to write the next chapter bear with me I have a plan I promise</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Harry sat bolt upright.</p><p>“Get off!” he heard Draco shout. “Let me go!”</p><p>From the kitchen, he heard the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle. </p><p>He had pulled on clothes without noticing what he picked up. He was running down the stairs.</p><p>“Harry!” shouted Draco. “Help!”</p><p>“I’m coming!”</p><p>Harry burst into the kitchen and saw… what looked like half the Department of Mysteries, including Hermione and Chief. Harry’s fireplace had been blown apart by the force with which they had broken through the wards, and Draco was trussed up in ropes, knocked to the ground.</p><p>“What are you <em>doing?”</em> said Harry, rushing to kneel by him. Hermione stepped forward out of the crowd. She lifted Harry to his feet.</p><p>“He’s been lying to you,” she said.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“He’s a Knutter spy.” </p><p>“I’m not!” said Draco.  </p><p>“That’s convenient, isn’t it?” said Harry, to the assembled Unspeakables. “You guys wanted him to die on a mission, and now you’ve found a reason to throw him in Azkaban?” </p><p>“Harry, I wanted to believe in him too,” said Hermione earnestly.</p><p>“It’s not true,” said Draco, “I swear it isn’t true!”</p><p>“Shut up!” said Chief.<br/> <br/>Hermione was looking at Harry with an expression of disturbing sympathy.</p><p>“Has he been into your study at all, Harry? Is there any time when he might have looked at your case files?”</p><p>“He was—he was helping organise them,” said Harry, suddenly feeling as if his legs were made of cotton wool. </p><p>“The Knutters have had warning about every single raid we’ve made in the last three days. Eight Unspeakables have been killed.”</p><p>“Draco?” asked Harry. “Do you… do you know anything about this?”</p><p>Draco’s eyes were red, his face contorted so that the missing teeth were all the more obvious.</p><p>“I only—I only told Goyle,” he said.</p><p>Harry stared at him.</p><p>“But that was only one raid—in one of the safe houses—I have no idea how they would have warning about the other raids, Harry, I didn’t tell him anything like that, I swear—”</p><p>“You… you leaked information from my case files?” </p><p>Draco looked wild.</p><p>“They might have killed him, Harry—he’s the only friend I have left—”</p><p>“Be quiet, Draco,” said Hermione, rather gently. “You shouldn’t say anymore without a lawyer. You’ll only get yourself in more trouble.”</p><p>Harry was so stunned he was having trouble moving from one thought to another.</p><p>“But he wasn’t, he wasn’t <em>spying</em>,” he said, “you heard him, he didn’t tell about the raids; that must have been someone else!”</p><p>“I wasn’t spying,” said Draco, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Harry since he entered the room, “Harry, God, <em>please</em> believe me!”</p><p>“Shut up,” said Chief, and cast a silencing spell at Draco. “We’re taking him in for questioning now, Potter. We’ll discuss your lapse in security protocol at a later date.”</p><p>“But…” began Harry, staring at Draco. Several burly Unspeakables were lifting him to his feet, and Harry was reminded horribly of Bertie Crouch Junior, begging his father to save him… but Bertie Crouch Junior <em>had</em> been guilty…</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t lie to me again,” Harry had said.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I can’t promise that,” Draco had answered.</em>
</p><p>“But Draco wouldn’t do that,” he said now. “Draco wouldn’t betray…” </p><p><em>Me</em>, he wanted to say. And he was almost certain, almost 100% certain…</p><p>“Harry, no one else had both access to the case files and a motive,” said Hermione, as Draco was dragged towards the demolished floo. He still only had eyes for Harry, wide, wild, supplicating grey eyes. His hair was all dishevelled from sex. Harry had kissed him in this very kitchen less than an hour ago. </p><p>“He wouldn’t have,” said Harry. Hermione and Chief exchanged glances, and Hermione nodded.</p><p>“All right, Harry, I’ll stay behind to debrief you,” she said.</p><p>The Unspeakables dragging Draco had reached the ruins of Harry’s fireplace.</p><p>“Wait,” said Harry, “where are you taking him?”</p><p>“For questioning,” said Chief, grimly. </p><p>“He needs a lawyer,” said Harry.</p><p>“One will be provided,” said Chief.</p><p><em>“Harry,”</em> mouthed Draco, and Harry suddenly knew that his doubt didn’t matter. He wasn’t completely sure that Draco was innocent, but he <em>was</em> completely sure that Draco needed him.</p><p>Harry lifted his left hand to his chest and formed his thumb and index finger into a letter L. Draco’s eyes strayed from Harry’s face to take in the movement. The moment he understood what Harry was doing, he stopped struggling against his captors. In the last glimpse Harry had of him before he was whisked away to be questioned, he threw Harry a look of such unbridled gratitude that Harry’s stomach dropped. </p><p>A moment later, Draco, and all the Unspeakables, were gone. Harry and Hermione were alone in his kitchen. </p><p>Harry stared blankly at his fireplace. Hermione began mending everything that had been broken. When she was done, she put the kettle on; got out the mugs. She stopped in surprise when she opened the tea cabinet.</p><p>“Oh, you finally organised it,” she said. </p><p>“Draco did it,” said Harry, and he looked around him as if he was waking up. “He’s not a spy, Hermione.”</p><p>“Of course he is,” said Hermione, in a matter-of-fact tone. “The question is, is he a double agent? He’s been spying on the Knutters for years, and he seems to have been very good at it. Do you really think he couldn’t have fooled you?”</p><p>“He didn’t like the Knutters. Why would he want to help them?”</p><p>Hermione poured boiling water into the mugs. Harry sat at the kitchen table.</p><p>“Loyalty?” she said. “It’s not as if the Ministry has treated him very fairly. Honestly, I wouldn’t even blame him for wanting to undermine Mysteries.”</p><p>“He was miserable working with the Knutters. You didn’t see him in that warehouse. It was like it wasn’t even him.”</p><p>“Look, Harry, I didn’t want to believe it either. The Knutters are so like the Death Eaters, and I really thought he had changed—”</p><p>“He has!”</p><p>Hermione looked at him with pity.</p><p>“Oh, Harry…”</p><p>“He <em>has</em> changed, Hermione. You don’t know him.”</p><p>“Do <em>you?”</em></p><p>Harry hesitated.</p><p>“It’s… it’s very common for spies to sleep with the people they’re spying on,” said Hermione, slowly, as if she didn’t want to say it. “You know it is.”</p><p>Harry shook his head.</p><p>“That’s not what it was, Hermione. It started in training. He didn’t know who I was.”</p><p>“It’s possible he did, Harry. We don’t know how long he’s been sourcing information above his security clearance.”</p><p>“No,” said Harry, “no, he loves me.”</p><p>Hermione still had that awful, pitying look. Far from convincing him, it made him think of another reason to trust Draco.</p><p>“He admitted to telling Goyle about a raid. If he really was the spy, he would have denied everything.”</p><p>“Maybe,” said Hermione, “or maybe he thought it would look more convincing—”</p><p>But Harry was remembering Draco’s wild, pleading eyes, the way he had said <em>“Harry, God, <span class="u">please</span> believe me!”</em></p><p>“No,” he said, more confidently. “I don’t think Draco was spying on Mysteries. If he was, he wouldn’t have begged me to believe he wasn’t.”</p><p>“Harry…”</p><p>“Mysteries is setting him up. It makes sense! We knew something like this might happen!” </p><p>He was standing. He wasn’t sure when he had stood up, or what he was going to do next; he had a vague idea that he should storm the Ministry of Magic and spring Draco free like a damsel-in-distress. Hermione seemed to sense this. </p><p>“Harry. Stop. You can’t go break him out of the Ministry.”</p><p>“Do you believe me?”</p><p>“I… I believe you believe him,” said Hermione. She was pale, and nervously biting her lip. “And I want to believe you, I do, but think about what you’re saying. He had access to all the information about the upcoming raids. He had reason to hate the Ministry. He had friends in the Knutters who would be given the Kiss if caught. Can’t you see how it <em>looks?”</em></p><p>“That’s another thing,” said Harry, pacing back and forth. “Why was I given all those top secret case files? I’m still in training. What if whoever the spy is gave them to me so that they’d be able to frame Draco?”</p><p>“Harry. I want to believe you, but you have to <em>try</em> to convince me.”</p><p>Harry stopped his pacing.</p><p>“I don’t know what to tell you. I trust him. If he told me he didn’t do it, I believe him. He <em>loves</em> me.”</p><p>Hermione shifted unhappily from one foot to the other.</p><p>“Yes, but…”</p><p>“You’re worried he was just pretending.”</p><p>“It’s… it’s a possibility. He probably does love you! And if he does, Harry, and if he really wouldn’t lie to you, I will do everything in my power to make sure he goes free. I promise. But I have to check. It’s like…”</p><p>“With Sirius,” finished Harry. </p><p>Hermione nodded. </p><p>Harry sank into a chair.</p><p>“So, what, you’re just going to go to his holding cell and ask him, “Hey Malfoy, been stringing anyone along in a fake relationship lately?’”</p><p>“I have an idea. I’ll have to borrow your cloak, so I can talk to him alone.”</p><p>Harry sighed and put his head in his hands.</p><p>“Yeah. Sure. But make it quick. I want to find the bastards who are trying to frame him.”</p><p>Hermione gave him an anxious look, but didn’t say anything. She left shortly after, armed with his invisibility cloak. </p><p>Harry had a shower. He stared at his unmade bed for a bit. He got dressed. He made a fresh cup of tea, and drank it. He wished Timothy would come home for lunch early. He wished Draco was in his bed. He wished he was wherever Draco was.</p><p>Hermione came in through the floo. </p><p>“How did it—” </p><p>“You were right,” said Hermione. She looked a little shaken. “He really does love you.”</p><p>Harry couldn’t stop himself from smiling.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>They went to the sitting room. Hermione paused by an armchair, her hands resting on its back, her face white and pinched.</p><p>“Yes,” she said, as if there had been no break in their conversation. “He loves you very much. And I don’t think he was spying on the Ministry.”</p><p>“Is he okay? How did he seem? What did he say?”</p><p>Hermione raised her eyes to look at him. She looked distinctly guilty.</p><p>“Hang on,” said Harry. “What did <em>you</em> say?” </p><p>“I… well, I had to check, Harry.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Well, I told him that Mysteries was looking for an excuse to fire you. They aren’t!” she said, catching sight of his expression. “But I told him that if he told us about the kinds of protections you had on your desk, his sentence would be reduced. <em>Significantly</em> reduced.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry.</p><p>Hermione looked at her hands.</p><p>“He wouldn’t tell me anything. Actually, he got rather… aggressive.”</p><p>“Aggressive?”</p><p>“Uh, personal,” said Hermione. “He wasn’t physically aggressive; he was all chained up.”</p><p>“Chained up??”</p><p>“He’s all right,” said Hermione, hastily. “Anyway, so then I told him that <em>you</em> had turned on <em>him</em>.”</p><p>“You <em>what?”</em> </p><p>“It’s a perfectly normal interrogation technique, Harry.”</p><p>“You told him I was… what, trying to turn him in?”</p><p>“Yes. Said you’d given us evidence that he was a spy,” said Hermione. She pushed her hair wearily out of her face. “And he just… crumpled.”</p><p>Harry crossed his arms, tightly, as if that would alleviate the swelling sensation in his chest.</p><p>“What did he say?”</p><p>“He still refused to tell me anything about you. Actually, he wouldn’t say anything much, after that.”</p><p>“Hermione! Did you tell him you’d made it all up?”</p><p>“Now— bear with me—”</p><p>
  <em>“Hermione!”</em>
</p><p>“Harry. You were right. There must be another spy in Mysteries, and it’s up to you and me to catch him. How are you supposed to do that if you and Draco are madly professing your love for each other? But if you claim to be against him, you’ll have a chance to look around!”</p><p>“I can’t just let him think…” Harry tried to slow himself down. He didn’t want to be rash. Draco’s life was at stake; he would get the Kiss for sure if Harry and Hermione couldn’t prove someone else was responsible for the leaks. </p><p>“It might keep him safer,” said Hermione.</p><p>“But it might make him reckless, too,” said Harry. He made up his mind. “I’ll sneak in tonight, under the cloak.”</p><p>Hermione seemed as if she was going to argue further, but she didn’t.</p><p>“I can’t believe what’s happening to him,” she said, after a moment. “I can’t <em>believe</em> anyone in Mysteries would be so corrupt.”</p><p>“I can,” said Harry.</p><p>“It isn’t fair, but more than that, it’s <em>stupid</em>. He’s an excellent agent.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, prejudice is stupid,” said Harry.</p><p>Hermione fiddled with her hair.</p><p>“I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you right away,” she said. “I wanted to. You can’t imagine how strange it was to see you two together, during training.”</p><p>“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Harry. </p><p>“I could see you both, when you couldn’t see each other. I saw how you looked at each other. From the very beginning.”</p><p>Harry and L had been instantly drawn to each other. The first day Harry moved into his dorm, L knocked on his door and asked if he wanted a cup of tea. Compared to the other recruits, he had been calm, measured. Harry had been soothed by his company. Their friendship had kindled at once, the sort of friendship where they sat together at every meal, and paired up together for duels, and stopped trying to make friends with anyone else, because they had found each other. </p><p>“But you still didn’t believe me,” said Harry.</p><p>“I just wanted to be certain,” said Hermione.</p><p>“Certain?” said Harry. “I don’t think I’ll ever be certain of Draco.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>Timothy frowned when Harry explained that Draco had been taken into custody.</p><p>“But I thought he wasn’t evil?”</p><p>“He isn’t,” said Harry. “It’s not only evil people who get arrested. Anyway, it’s a mistake, and I’m going to sort it out.”</p><p>“What will happen if you don’t?”</p><p>“I’m going to sort it out,” said Harry, again. </p><p>But sorting it out was not as simple as Harry thought it would be. </p><p>The invisibility cloak made him cocky. So did the ease with which Hermione had been able to sneak into Draco’s cell that morning. Harry could not have predicted that they had tightened the security measures. That something as stupid as a tripping jinx had been set up outside Draco’s door.</p><p>Harry went flying. The cloak slipped off him, and Draco’s cell door flew open. The guard (they had posted a guard <em>inside Draco’s cell</em>, Harry noted in dismay) caught sight of him and laughed. </p><p>“Mr. Potter! What are you doing here?”</p><p>Draco appeared at the guard’s elbow as the guard bent to help Harry to his feet. He was wearing handcuffs and his eyes were fixed on Harry.</p><p>“Well, you caught me,” said Harry. “I wanted to see Malfoy.”</p><p>The guard’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, becoming cunning and suspicious.</p><p>“In the middle of the night? What for?”</p><p>Harry kept his eyes on Draco, willing him to understand, but he had no idea if he would.</p><p>“To beat him up,” he said.</p><p>The guard relaxed and gave a little laugh. </p><p>“Well, sir, that’s understandable, but I’m afraid it’s against the regulations, even for you.”</p><p>“Right,” said Harry. Draco’s face had not changed. It was completely unreadable. “Well, that’s all I came for.”</p><p>“To beat me up?” said Draco. </p><p>His teeth had been fixed. Hermione must have regrown them for him.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry. </p><p>“I see,” said Draco. “I understand.”</p><p>But Harry didn’t know if he <em>did</em>.</p><p>“Can I have a minute alone with him?” Harry asked the guard. </p><p>“Better not,” said Draco, to the guard, although his eyes still hadn’t moved from Harry. “You don’t want to have to explain why you’ve got a dead suspect in your cell in the morning.”</p><p>“I won’t hurt him,” said Harry.</p><p>“Okay,” said Draco, patronisingly. </p><p>Or maybe it was “Oh, K…”</p><p>It was impossible to tell. </p><p>“All right, enough lip out of you, Malfoy,” said the guard. Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry, dipped his head in a quick, inscrutable incline, and retreated back into his cell. </p><p>“In all seriousness, sir, I can’t allow you to harm him,” said the guard.</p><p>“No, of course, I understand,” said Harry. </p><p>“I’ll have to report this tomorrow, sir.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, of course,” said Harry. “That’s fine.”</p><p><br/>The failed trip to see Draco had an unforeseen advantage. It seemed to convince Chief that Harry was out for blood, and that he could be trusted in the particulars of Draco’s case. The next morning, Harry was called into the Department. After he had explained that his desk was not warded, he answered Chief’s questions about Draco’s character as vaguely as possible.</p><p>“You were involved… <em>romantically</em>, is that right?” asked Chief.</p><p>“Only before I knew his identity, sir,” said Harry.</p><p>Chief observed him carefully.</p><p>“And how do you feel about him now?”</p><p>Harry smiled.</p><p>“I want justice to be served.”</p><p><br/>“You’re right,” said Hermione, later. They had cast muffliato, but just to be sure, they were in Harry’s bathroom, with the shower running. They were both convinced Harry’s house was under surveillance charms. “It’s weird that they were giving you access to all those top secret files.”</p><p>“I assumed it was because I’m, you know, The Chosen One.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>are</em> you? You should have mentioned,” said Hermione.</p><p>“They’re going to think we’re in here having a shower together, you know,” said Harry.</p><p>“I know,” said Hermione, looking suddenly haughty. “I’ve thought of that. I’ve put it around that we’re having an affair.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“Do you want Draco out, or not?”</p><p>“Ron will <em>kill</em> me. I’m not joking. He will literally kill me in a fit of rage.”</p><p>“Leave Ron to me,” said Hermione darkly. “Draco’s trial is in three days, we don’t have any time to waste. Here’s a list of the people who were involved in giving you those files. We’re going to investigate all of them.”</p><p> </p><p>It was surprising how susceptible people who worked in intelligence were to the very tricks they had drilled into new recruits. Harry and Hermione took people out to drinks. They flattered them. They pretended to get drunk and revealed choice secrets, so that the person they interviewed reciprocated with secrets of their own. </p><p>Sometimes, Harry flirted as himself. Sometimes he was glamoured or polyjuiced. Sometimes, he didn’t flirt at all, but stared seriously into their eyes and made them feel important. </p><p>He didn’t sleep with any of them, although once or twice it was a near thing. He wondered if Hermione had taken anyone to bed. They didn’t discuss details when they exchanged the information they gathered; information that led, surer and surer with each new clue, to one person.</p><p>Chief. </p><p>“Dot Mitchell said Chief was against hiring Draco from the beginning,” said Harry.</p><p>“Well, I could have told you that,” said Hermione. They were in Harry’s bathroom again. Draco’s trial was that afternoon. </p><p>“Yes,” said Harry, “but Dot told me that Chief actually wrote to the Minister for Magic and tried to get you sacked for fighting Draco’s corner.”</p><p>“Me??”</p><p>“Yes. And look, I managed to get a copy of this memo Chief made, saying to give me the files in order to ease <em>Operation Kiss</em>.” </p><p>“And we know Operation Kiss was the investigation into Draco’s loyalty, from Henry Berk.”</p><p>“How <em>did</em> you get Henry Berk to talk to you? He was absolutely useless when I tried him. Discreet as hell.”</p><p>Hermione blushed. </p><p>“Never mind,” she said. “The important thing is, I think we’ve got Chief exactly where we want him.”</p><p>“It’s weird,” said Harry. “I don’t get the feeling Chief is even that <em>against</em> Death Eaters.”</p><p>Hermione nodded.</p><p>“He isn’t. He isn’t vengeful. You have to understand, Harry: after what happened in fifth year, Mysteries has come under a lot of scrutiny. Chief isn’t trying to <em>hurt Draco</em>. He just wants what’s best for the Department.”</p><p>“Oh, and that’s enlisting new recruits just so you can chuck them in prison after they’ve served their purpose, is it?” asked Harry, bristling.</p><p>“Harry! No. Of course <em>I</em> don’t think that. But frankly, Mysteries has been operating at a financial loss for years now, and we desperately need some reforms.”</p><p>“Draco has ideas about that.”</p><p>Hermione took Harry’s hand, surprising him with her gentleness.</p><p>“Harry… you know Draco will definitely be going to Azkaban, right? No matter what. Because of what he admitted, about Goyle.”</p><p>Harry clenched his jaw and looked the damp bath mat.</p><p>“Yeah, I know.”</p><p>“Hopefully with all of this evidence, and with our statements, he won’t be there very long.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“The important thing is that he won’t get the Kiss.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“All right.”</p><p>“So now, what? Should we, like, storm into Shacklebolt’s office, or…?”</p><p>Hermione sighed.</p><p>“Your plans always involve so much <em>storming</em>, Harry. No, I was thinking more along the lines of, give our evidence to Draco’s defence lawyer.”</p><p><br/>In the end, it was the furthest thing from <em>storming</em> Harry could imagine. Harry and Hermione sat in the Wizengamot trial room, watching as Draco answered questions in a monotone. He kept catching Harry’s eye. Each time he did, Harry smiled, and Draco’s eyebrows would draw together slightly before he looked away. </p><p>But then Draco’s lawyer started presenting the evidence against Chief. An uncomfortable murmur rose in the gallery. There were limited onlookers, because the case concerned Mysteries, and so was closed to the public. </p><p>“…in light of these findings, I submit that my client was purposefully led into a position where it was not only <em>inevitable</em> that he would attempt to save the life of his friend Mr. Goyle, but <em>impossible</em> that he should not be blamed for information leaks far beyond the scope of his actual misdemeanour.”</p><p>“Oh, she’s good,” said Hermione into Harry’s ear. </p><p>“This is ridiculous,” said Chief, loudly.</p><p>“Are you suggesting that the head of the Department of Mysteries <em>framed</em> Draco Malfoy?” asked Shacklebolt. </p><p>“The evidence certainly tends that way, Minister.”</p><p>“This is ridiculous!” said Chief again. Draco started to laugh. </p><p>“Order,” said Shacklebolt.</p><p>“Sorry,” said Draco, but he could not stop laughing. He glanced at Harry and grinned. Harry grinned back. </p><p>“That is a very serious accusation,” said Shacklebolt.</p><p>“As is the accusation levelled at my client,” said Draco’s lawyer, “and he is vulnerable to attacks on his reputation, due to events that took place when he was only a minor.”</p><p>“Clever,” whispered Hermione, “what a clever way to mention the War!”</p><p>“You’re developing a crush,” Harry told her.</p><p>“Shhh,” said Hermione. </p><p>“It certainly seems that there isn’t sufficient evidence to condemn Mr. Malfoy for anything but the leak concerning Mr. Goyle, and I’ll admit to there be mitigating factors in that case,” said Shacklebolt. “We will look further into the accusations levelled at the Department of Mysteries. In the meantime: all those in favour of an Azkaban sentence for Mr. Malfoy during no longer than one month, and a lifelong ban on Department of Mysteries fieldwork?”</p><p>Almost everyone in the Wizengamot raised their hand. Draco was still laughing, almost hysterically, as the guards untied him from the chair and escorted him away.</p><p>“L,” said Harry.</p><p>Draco turned to look at him. The crazed laughter died out of his eyes, but he didn't say anything.</p><p>He was pulled out of the room. </p><p><br/>Chief was found guilty of conspiring to plant evidence less than a week after Draco went to Azkaban. He was dismissed with a warning, and Hermione was promoted to Executive Head of Recruits. It was obvious she would be Chief of the Department by the time she was thirty-five. </p><p>Harry, meanwhile, told Ron about Draco. </p><p>“You’ve been <em>what?”</em></p><p>“Dating. For…” Harry paused with his fork in the air and looked at Hermione. “…like, a year and a bit? We sort of broke up and got back together.”</p><p>“And they were close for a year, before that,” said Hermione. “Would you pass the parmesan, Ron?”</p><p>Ron groped around for the parmesan, staring at Harry. </p><p>“I don’t understand,” he said. “Where did you even meet him?”</p><p>Harry glanced at Hermione.</p><p>“Actually, it’s one of the changes I’m planning on making,” said Hermione, nonsensically. </p><p>“What?” asked Ron. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Ron… Harry, Draco and I are all Unspeakables,” said Hermione. She shrugged her shoulders happily. “Oh, I’m glad I was able to say that. I <em>like</em> this promotion.”</p><p>“You’re…” Ron looked stunned. “But you work in the Department of Muggle Artefacts.”</p><p>“One day a week, yes,” said Hermione. </p><p>Ron looked at Harry.</p><p>“So you work in Mysteries… with <em>Malfoy</em>… and you started…” he gulped. </p><p>“Fucking?” offered Harry helpfully. “Falling in love? Both?”</p><p>“But he’s a <em>Death Eater!” </em></p><p>Harry put his cutlery down and looked Ron seriously in the eye.</p><p>“He was. He was one of the worst people I knew. He was unforgivably nasty to all three of us. For years.” </p><p>“Bill’s face,” said Ron.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah, I know.”</p><p>“Teddy,” said Ron.</p><p>“That was hardly his fault, Ron,” said Hermione.</p><p>“<em>Fred,</em>” said Ron, and Hermione fell silent. Of course, Fred was no more Draco’s fault than Lupin and Tonks, but it didn’t matter. There was never any use in arguing about Fred. Fred was a trump card, and could never be beaten.</p><p>“You don’t have to forgive him,” said Harry. “You just have to promise not to make my life harder.”</p><p>“<em>You’re</em> making <em>my</em> life harder!” said Ron. “Why the fuck should I have to—Harry, Hermione got tortured at his <em>house!</em> What the fuck gives you the right to ask us to be okay with this?”</p><p>“Do you remember how Harry was, two years ago?” asked Hermione suddenly.</p><p>“I—yeah,” said Ron, breathing out a long breath. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Do you remember how he used to pass out every time he drank?”</p><p>“Not <em>every</em> time,” said Harry.</p><p>“Why do you think he stopped? What do you think changed?”</p><p>“Starting work at Mysteries, obviously,” said Ron.</p><p>“No,” said Hermione. “It was Draco. He makes Harry <em>happy</em>. Look, I haven’t… it’s hard for me to forget the things he did. But when I see them together…”</p><p>Harry’s vision was blurry. He blinked, and the tears retreated. </p><p>“I love him,” he said. </p><p><em>“How?”</em> asked Ron. </p><p>“I didn’t know who he was for the first two years, and that bloody well helped…”</p><p>“Yeah, I can imagine,” said Ron. He ran a hand over his face. “Fucking hell. You’re seriously in love with Malfoy?”</p><p>“It will make a lot more sense when you see them together,” said Hermione. “And he really has changed, Ron.”</p><p>“Where is he now, anyway?”</p><p>Harry winced.</p><p>“Er. Azkaban. But it’s complicated.”</p><p>“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry, couldn’t you have just made it work with Ginny?”</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“That would have been easier, yeah.”</p><p>“His dad tried to kill my sister,” said Ron.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry. “I mean, he’s dead now.”</p><p>“Still,” said Ron. </p><p>“Draco gets out in three weeks,” said Harry. “I want us to all get a drink together, or something.”</p><p>“A <em>drink</em>,” moaned Ron, “he’s going to ruin <em>drinking</em> for me!”</p><p>“It’ll make sense when you see them,” said Hermione, again. She looked at Harry. “It’ll be fine.”</p><p>“He’s going to be a bit delicate, Ron,” said Harry. “He’s had a rough few months.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” said Ron. “I won’t punch him in the face.”</p><p>“Yes, Harry already did that,” said Hermione.</p><p>“Don’t,” said Harry.</p><p>“You did?” asked Ron, sounding delighted. </p><p>“Don’t,” said Harry again. “It was awful. It was so fucked up. It felt like punching Hermione.”</p><p>Ron raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“You’re not in love with Hermione, are you?”</p><p>“No, but that’s another thing,” said Hermione. “Harry and I have been pretending to have an affair, so if you hear anything about—”</p><p>“You <em>what?”</em></p><p>“…I should get home,” said Harry. “Check on Timothy.”</p><p><br/>The weeks crawled by. Harry wondered what it had meant, when Draco laughed like that in the court room. Had he lost his mind? Was he cackling because he had successfully gotten away with spying for the Knutters? Or had it been because he guessed that it was Harry who had gathered the evidence to condemn Chief? </p><p>Harry tried to convince himself that was what it was. Most days, he was sure of it, but there was always doubt in his mind. </p><p>Timothy took to wandering around the house shirtless.</p><p>“I know what you’re trying to do,” said Harry.</p><p>“Me? I’m not doing anything,” said Timothy.</p><p>“How are things going with Erica?”</p><p>Timothy shrugged.</p><p>“I’m just looking around,” he said. “I don’t want to be tied down.” He bit his lip provocatively. “I just want lots and lots of meaningless sex with good looking people, if you know what I mean…”</p><p>Harry threw a cushion at him.</p><p>“Ow!” said Timothy. “Fine! Don’t fuck me, then. Salazar, you’re violent.”</p><p>“You <em>like</em> Draco. You get that it would upset him, right?”</p><p>Timothy lay back on the sofa and stretched distractingly.</p><p>“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. I’m perfectly happy to sleep with both of you.”</p><p>“Aren’t you generous,” said Harry wryly. </p><p>“Admit you want to,” said Timothy.</p><p>“That’s not the point,” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy yawned.</p><p>“I hope I’m not this boring when <em>I’m</em> in my forties.”</p><p>“I’m twenty-seven!”</p><p>“What if Draco’s different when he comes out?”</p><p>“You’re not very loyal,” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy tilted his head back over the armrest.</p><p>“Aren’t I?” he considered. “I don’t know. I don’t care that he was a Death Eater. I wouldn’t care if he became one again. I’d still be his friend.”</p><p>“But you’d sleep with his boyfriend.”</p><p>“Only because it wouldn’t mean anything.”</p><p>“All right. I’m not arguing with you anymore. Back off.”</p><p>“Your wish is my command,” said Timothy, laughing, and put on his shirt.</p><p>He didn’t try anything with Harry again. He brought a different person home every night. Harry insisted that they had to stay for breakfast. Quite apart from anything else, it made for entertaining mornings. </p><p>Harry wondered what Draco’s mornings were like. He wondered about what Timothy had said: <em>what if Draco’s different when he comes out?</em></p><p>What if? </p><p>All Harry could do was keep faith.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry was waiting by the apparition point when Draco got out of Azkaban. He wasn’t sure when he would arrive; notice of his release had simply said “morning”, so Harry got there at six a. m. and waited. It was just an old bus stop on an abandoned street in North London, and Harry hadn’t brought anything to read, only a bouquet of wilting flowers from the corner shop. After half an hour of waiting, he decided the flowers were stupid, actually, and he threw them away. </p><p>A little after seven, Draco appeared, holding a ratty old boot.  </p><p>Harry stood. </p><p>“Hey,” he said.</p><p>Draco stared at him. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn when he was arrested, which, incidentally, were Harry’s clothes: a Weasley jumper and a pair of joggers. </p><p>“Hey,” he said. </p><p>“I got you flowers but they were shit so I threw them away,” said Harry.</p><p>“I like flowers,” said Draco.</p><p>“We could probably still—” said Harry, going to the bin and looking uneasily into it. Draco’s hand came to rest on his arm.</p><p>“That’s okay,” he said. He dropped the portkey into the bin.</p><p>“How are you?” asked Harry.</p><p>“A little tired.”</p><p>“Yeah, of course,” said Harry, getting out his wand. “Let’s go home.”</p><p>Draco frowned and smiled at the same time. </p><p>“Home?”</p><p>“Oh, er, my place, I mean. I mean—you don’t have to come. You can go back to yours, if you prefer. But I thought there might still be Knutters after you? So I sort of got everything ready? But—”</p><p>“No, that sounds good,” said Draco. “Your place.”</p><p>“Okay,” said Harry. “All right with side-along?”</p><p>Draco nodded, and Harry apparated them back to Grimmauld Place. </p><p>Harry led Draco to the room he had stayed in before, the one next to his. </p><p>“I put out some new clothes,” he said, gesturing at the bed. “I figured you’d want to shower.”</p><p>“Thank you,” said Draco. They stared at each other for a moment.</p><p>“Right, well, come downstairs when you’re ready, I’m making pancakes.”</p><p>“I like pancakes,” said Draco.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry, smiling. “I know.” </p><p>Draco smiled, too. He looked just how Harry felt: nervous, polite, tired. He ran a hand through his dirty hair.</p><p>“I feel disgusting,” he said. He sounded regretful.</p><p>“Right, yeah, go shower,” said Harry, and went to the kitchen. </p><p>Draco had a long shower. Harry set the table with the fine china Kreacher was always pressuring him to use. He went outside and picked a few white English roses and put them in a small crystal vase. He made a stack of pancakes, keeping them hot with a charm, and put them on the table with the butter and syrup in their blue porcelain pitchers. The sun streamed through the kitchen window, soft and tranquil. It was a Saturday. Draco was safe. </p><p>He was just making a pot of tea when Draco came silently into the kitchen. </p><p>“Oh,” he said, in quiet surprise. “This is lovely.”</p><p>“I thought—first meal back.”</p><p>“It looks wonderful,” said Draco. </p><p><em>He</em> looked wonderful. Harry had picked out a pair of pyjamas, soft and well-worn. Draco’s hair was damp. He looked very young, somehow. </p><p>“Are you all right?” asked Harry, after they’d sat down, and Harry had served the pancakes.</p><p>“I’m ravenous,” said Draco. “This looks… it’s like a dream.” He frowned. “I hope it isn’t a dream.”</p><p>Harry pinched him.</p><p>“Ow!”</p><p>“It’s real,” said Harry. Draco laughed. </p><p>“Good,” he said. “Are <em>you</em> all right?” </p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry. “I missed you.”</p><p>Draco carefully swallowed his food before smiling. </p><p>“I missed you, too.”</p><p>The rest of the meal passed in silence. Draco was clearly concentrating on his food, although he kept catching Harry’s eye and smiling. Harry, meanwhile, couldn’t seem to stop smiling. He ate without any notion of what was going in his mouth. He couldn’t think of anything beyond <em>he’s back, he’s here, he’s back…!</em></p><p>Draco put his knife and fork neatly together on his plate.</p><p>“I thought you might want a nap,” said Harry.</p><p>Draco looked at his plate. He seemed suddenly quite unhappy.</p><p>“Yes,” he said. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing,” said Draco. He looked up. “Well. Actually. A nap sounds a bit lonely.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry.</p><p>“I’ve been alone—a lot.”</p><p>“I’m not very good at naps,” said Harry. “I can never get back to sleep, once I’ve woken up.”</p><p>“I know,” said Draco. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just being stupid.”</p><p>“I’ll—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—I could sit with you until you fall asleep? Like I used to, in Mysteries—is that weird?”</p><p>Draco looked instantly relieved.</p><p>“That, that would be nice. If you don’t mind?”</p><p>“No, I mean, I want to be near you,” said Harry.</p><p>“You do?”</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“Yeah.” He took their plates to the sink. When he had his back to Draco, he felt braver. “After all, you are my boyfriend, right?”</p><p>There was a pause that probably only lasted a few seconds, but seemed like an eternity. Harry ran water over the sticky, syrupy residue on the plates.</p><p>“Right,” said Draco, in a low voice. When Harry turned around, Draco was standing only a few feet away from him. Harry’s whole body thrilled. His hands were wet, so he dried them on the hand towel, because Draco looked so clean and dry and comfortable. Draco watched each move he made.</p><p>Harry took Draco’s head in his hands and pulled him into a long, slow kiss. Draco kissed him back, his hands running busily up and down Harry’s sides.</p><p>“I really do want a nap, you know,” said Draco, after a moment. He sounded rather breathless. </p><p>“I know,” said Harry, “You must be exhausted.”</p><p>“I’m so tired I feel as if I’m high.” </p><p>“Poor Malfoy. Let’s get you to bed.”</p><p>They went upstairs slowly, suddenly shy of each other. Harry knew they were both thinking of the last time they had gone up to bed together.</p><p>They went to Draco’s room. Draco crawled into bed, and Harry sat up on the pillow beside him.</p><p>“I feel ridiculous, asking you to stay and watch me sleep,” said Draco. Harry bent down and kissed his temple. </p><p>“It’s much less creepy if I have your permission.”</p><p>Draco laughed quietly. His eyelids floated shut, and within a minute he was fast asleep. </p><p><br/>
“So he’s upstairs?” asked Timothy, hanging over the edge of the sofa.</p><p>“He’s sleeping.”</p><p>“Can I go wake him up?”</p><p>“You’re such a child. No.”</p><p>Timothy looked at the clock.</p><p>“It’s almost lunchtime. He probably wants to be woken up.”</p><p>“He was very tired,” said Harry, not looking up from his newspaper.</p><p>“Did you guys fuck?”</p><p>Harry gave up on the paper.</p><p>“No. You’re bloody nosy, you know that?”</p><p>“So are you guys still dating, or what?”</p><p>“Yes. We are,” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy had an unpleasantly victorious look in his eye.</p><p>“You’re happy,” he said. He sounded smug about it, as if Harry’s happiness was a project he had laboured over for years that had finally come to fruition.</p><p>“Of course I’m happy,” said Harry.</p><p>“No, but, like, you’re <em>stupidly</em> happy.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>Timothy burrowed into the armchair, radiating smugness. </p><p>“I’m just pleased my advice worked out so well for you,” he said.</p><p>“What advice? You’ve just been trying to sleep with me,” said Harry.</p><p>Timothy waved his hand dismissively.</p><p>“To not give up on him. I take full responsibility for your happiness.”</p><p>“That’s ridiculous,” said Harry.</p><p>“What’s ridiculous?” asked Draco, from the door.</p><p>“You’re up!” cried Timothy, jumping to his feet. “Draco! It’s me, Timothy.”</p><p>Draco laughed indulgently as Timothy went to embrace him.</p><p>“Yes, I haven’t forgotten you <em>quite</em> yet, Timmy.”</p><p>“You look all right,” said Timothy. “I thought you would be all, <em>haunted by the ghosts of your wrongdoings</em>.”</p><p>“Not visibly, thank God,” said Draco. “What time is it?”</p><p>“Noon,” said Harry. “Do you want lunch?”</p><p>Draco had his arm around Timothy, who stared up at him with something close to adoration. </p><p>“Oh. If you want,” said Draco.</p><p>“What do <em>you</em> want?” </p><p>Draco’s fingers jittered on Timothy’s arm. </p><p>“I feel a bit pent up,” he said. </p><p>“Really now?” said Timothy, his voice becoming sultry. “Anything I can help with?”</p><p>Draco laughed. He laughed a lot around Timothy, but somehow not in a way that made Harry jealous. </p><p>“I was thinking more along the lines of a walk.”</p><p>Of course, thought Harry. Draco had been inside for a month.</p><p>“Let’s go to the park,” said Harry. “Do you want Timothy to come?”</p><p>“The more the merrier,” said Draco, before Timothy had time to be outraged at the prospect of being left out. </p><p>It was a bright, chilly day; winter in the shade and summer in the sun. They went to the nearby park and walked along the dirt paths, not touching each other. Draco wore a coat over his pyjamas.</p><p>“What’s Azkaban like?” asked Timothy.  </p><p>“Timothy,” said Harry. “Can’t you give him a minute?”</p><p>“It’s cold and dark and lonely,” said Draco. </p><p>“Were there dementors?”</p><p>“A few. Fewer than last time.”</p><p>“Was it different from last time?” asked Timothy.</p><p>“Yes. Easier,” said Draco.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because I was pretty sure I had something to come back to,” said Draco. Harry glanced over at him. </p><p>“But you weren’t certain?” asked Harry. Draco looked back at him.</p><p>“No, not certain.”</p><p>“I tried to get Harry to sleep with me, but he wouldn’t,” said Timothy. </p><p>Draco laughed. </p><p>“Bad luck, Timmy. Maybe next time.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t have minded if we slept together, would you?” asked Timothy. </p><p>“I would have minded very much,” said Draco.</p><p>Timothy looked genuinely surprised.</p><p>“But it wouldn’t have meant anything!”</p><p>“Sex always means something, to me,” said Draco. </p><p>Timothy looked pensive. </p><p>“I didn’t know that,” he said. “That’s very disappointing.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because I’m really angling for a threesome.”</p><p>“Timmy, there are plenty of hot people outside of this household,” said Draco. </p><p>“Oh, he knows,” said Harry. “He’s brought quite a few of them home.”</p><p>“Speaking of which,” said Timothy, “I think that’s Teresa over there.”</p><p>“Teresa?” asked Harry. </p><p>“Blue hair. I’m still trying to work out if they’re interested. Hey, Teresa!”</p><p>Across the park, someone with blue hair looked up. Timothy waved enthusiastically, and they waved back. </p><p>“Right,” said Timothy. “I’m off to greener pastures. See you back at the house!” </p><p>“Do you worry about him?” asked Harry, as Timothy strode towards his blue-haired suitor.</p><p>“He’s figuring things out,” said Draco.</p><p>“He must have had two dozen one night stands while you were gone.”</p><p>Draco moved his head thoughtfully, as if he was trying to work out what to say.</p><p>“It goes that way, sometimes,” he said.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“After Croome, I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I think Timmy wants everyone to touch him. He’ll… find a balance, eventually, I think.”</p><p>“He really likes you.”</p><p>Draco smiled.</p><p>“We’re friends,” he said. </p><p>“How… how is Goyle?” asked Harry.</p><p>Draco looked down.</p><p>“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I knew I was betraying you when I did it.”</p><p>Harry dug his fists deeper into his pockets.</p><p>“It didn’t really feel like a betrayal,” he said. “I sort of got it. I would have done the same for Ron.”</p><p>“I wasn’t a double agent, you know.”</p><p>“No, I know,” said Harry.</p><p>“<em>Do</em> you?”</p><p>Harry caught hold of Draco’s wrists.</p><p>“Yes. I wasn’t sure, at first, but I know now.”</p><p>Draco nodded.</p><p>“Did you believe Hermione?” asked Harry. “When she said I’d betrayed you?”</p><p>“No,” said Draco. “Well. I did. But I didn’t <em>want</em> to believe her. I decided not to believe her. Even though I actually did. It was some pretty complicated mental gymnastics.”</p><p>“That’s how it was for me, too. I decided to believe you.”</p><p>Draco was staring at Harry’s hand on his wrist.</p><p>“And then you came to see me in the holding cell—”</p><p>“I was worried you’d think I meant it,” said Harry. “About wanting to beat you up.”</p><p>“I did think you meant it,” said Draco, slowly. “But I decided to believe you didn’t.”</p><p>“It’s very hard not to kiss you right now,” said Harry.</p><p>“Maybe we should take the opportunity to have the house to ourselves while Timmy tries to seduce whoever-that-was,” said Draco.</p><p>“That’s a pretty good idea,” said Harry.</p><p>“I’m full of them,” said Draco, and they went home, and kissed for a long, long time before having sex. Slow, and hard, and dreamy. </p><p>“I think this is going to work out,” said Harry, afterwards. He was holding Draco very tightly, as if he could squeeze the post-coital melancholy out of him.</p><p>“It’s always simple, when you’re in bed,” said Draco. </p><p>“But you want it to work out,” said Harry.</p><p>“It already is working out,” said Draco. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione had arranged for Draco to be transferred to the Magical Economics sector of the Department of Mysteries. It was a full-time Unspeakable position; no moonlighting. </p><p>The Daily Prophet had a field day.</p><p><em>“DEATH EATERS TAKE OVER THE MINISTRY… AGAIN?”</em> read the headline. </p><p>“I thought you were the last Death Eater left,” said Timothy. </p><p>“A dying breed,” said Draco, eating toast as he skimmed the article.</p><p>“It’s utter shite,” said Harry. “I really wouldn’t bother reading it.”</p><p>“Oh, look, Granger’s said something nice about me,” said Draco. <em>“‘Stunningly beautiful war heroine, Hermione Granger, defended the DoM’s recent decision. ‘Draco Malfoy is a changed man, and frankly, even if he wasn’t, he’d still be the best one for the job. His skill with economics surpasses anything we’ve seen before in the department.’</em> Sounds like I’ve got a chance with the stunningly beautiful war heroine, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“Don’t say stuff like that around Ron, will you? I like your face unbroken,” said Harry.</p><p>“When are we doing that? Drinks?”</p><p>“Soon,” said Harry. He wanted Draco to settle in a bit, first. He was clearly still shaken by his time in Azkaban. If Harry used the loo in the night, Draco always woke up when he was gone. Harry would come back and find him sitting with his head between his knees, breathing deeply.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Harry would say.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay. I’m still here.”</p><p>Harry knew Draco had a horror of being left alone; particularly in the dark. </p><p>“Sorry,” Draco said, whenever it happened.</p><p>“It’s fine,” said Harry. “I like helping.”</p><p>“I’ll be all right in a few weeks,” said Draco. This did not turn out to be true. He continued to wake up in the night, wide-eyed and desolate.</p><p>But Draco loved his new job, and Harry loved having him nearby. They ate lunch together most days in the subterranean cafeteria. Sometimes they were joined by Hermione and her colleagues, or Harry’s. Draco’s coworkers were slow to associate themselves with him. </p><p>“They will, though,” said Harry. “Everyone in our cohort loves you.”</p><p>It was true. Those who had known Draco as L were all loyal to him. Harry was sure that Draco’s colleagues in Magical Economics would soon get over their prejudices.</p><p>“It won’t hurt that he spends so much time with you,” said Hermione. </p><p>At home, Draco and Timothy were always together. </p><p>“You aren’t jealous, are you?” asked Timothy.</p><p>“No,” said Harry, although he was, a little. But Timothy made Draco laugh, and that was worth a little jealousy. </p><p>Draco had been back for a month before they got drinks with Ron. They got pints outside a pub on a sunny evening. Draco brought Harry his drink and sat next to him with a tense, clench-jawed expression.</p><p>“Malfoy,” said Ron.</p><p>“Weasley,” said Draco, dipping his head.</p><p>“Isn’t this nice?” said Hermione.</p><p>“It’d be nicer if the Ferret weren’t here,” said Ron. Draco smiled. </p><p>“With some distance, surely we can agree that transfiguring children into small mammals is not an appropriate form of punishment,” he said. </p><p>“Best thing Mad Eye Moody ever did,” said Ron. </p><p>“It wasn’t Mad Eye,” said Draco. His hand found Harry’s under the table. “Remember? It was Barty Crouch Junior, in disguise.”</p><p>“It’s odd, isn’t it, how he was one of the best Defence teachers we ever had?” said Hermione, evidently eager to get the subject away from ferrets. </p><p>“Yeah,” said Harry, taking a long drink from his pint glass. He felt that same feeling of guilt-tinged grief he experienced whenever Mad Eye came up. He had mourned his death—that of the real Moody—but it wasn’t until much later that it occurred to him that he had scarcely known him. It was a Death Eater in polyjuice he had trusted and looked up to. </p><p>“Crisps?” offered Draco. Harry knew it was to get his mind away from Moody.</p><p>“Thanks,” he said, taking one. </p><p>Ron had observed the interaction.</p><p>“So, seriously, Malfoy,” he said. “What are you doing with Harry?”</p><p>Draco leant back in his chair.</p><p>“Dating him, I think.”</p><p>“Why?” asked Ron. </p><p>“Why are you with Granger? I trust it’s not for her fashion sense,” said Draco.</p><p>Hermione made a pained sound.</p><p>“Sorry,” said Draco apologetically. “Collateral damage. Happy to give you a makeover, Granger.”</p><p>“It just seems a bit convenient, doesn’t it, that you’re fucking nothing and everyone hates you, and you’ve managed to glom onto the one person powerful enough to lift you out of the grime,” said Ron.</p><p>“Ron—” said Harry.</p><p>“Yes,” said Draco, his eyes flashing. “It’s so convenient, loving someone who loathes me and everything I stand for.”</p><p>“I don’t loathe you,” said Harry.</p><p>“You do, a bit,” said Draco, without taking his eyes off Ron. </p><p>“Draco. I don’t,” said Harry. </p><p>“Look, the fact is, Weasley, that I want Harry to be happy. Don’t you?”</p><p>“Of course I do,” said Ron, going red in the face. “And I think he’d be a hell of a lot happier with someone who wasn’t a bigoted prick of a Death Eater.”</p><p>“Oh, probably,” said Draco. “Harry, let’s break up, shall we? Weasley thinks we’re a bad idea.”</p><p>“Ron, you said you wouldn’t make my life harder,” said Harry. </p><p>“I won’t ever make him choose between us, Weasley,” said Draco, leaning suddenly forward across the table. “You can treat me like shit every time we meet from here to fucking Judgment Day; I don’t care. I’ll still show up and be polite. That’s a fucking promise. Are <em>you</em> going to make him choose? His best friend, or his boyfriend? Because it was my understanding that you’ve been with him through thick and thin already. This seems like a weird hurdle for you to stumble over.” </p><p>There was a long silence. </p><p>“He doesn’t have to choose,” said Ron. “But I hope you know I’m not going to stop hating you.”</p><p>Draco laughed. It sounded spiteful, but Harry knew it was only unhappy. </p><p>“I’m aware,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else. The weather’s good.”</p><p>“Lovely spring day, isn’t it?” said Hermione brightly.</p><p>“Warm,” said Harry, putting his hand on Draco’s thigh under the table and squeezing. “Good for quidditch.”</p><p>“Did you see the absolute stunner of a goal Winderly put through in the last Tornadoes match?” asked Draco. </p><p>“It was <em>glorious</em>,” said Harry.</p><p>“Winderly’s been on fire this season,” said Ron. </p><p>And, bizarrely, Ron was perfectly polite to Draco from then on. Draco, in turn, was cordial and charming, although quiet. He spoke only intermittently, and bought a round of drinks for the table. </p><p>“I told you,” said Hermione to Ron, when Draco was at the bar. </p><p>“It’s just <em>weird</em>,” said Ron.</p><p>“What?” asked Harry.</p><p>“How he, like, <em>dotes</em> on you,” said Ron.</p><p>“He doesn’t dote on me,” said Harry.</p><p>“He fucking does, mate,” said Ron. “That whole thing with the crisps? When Mad Eye came up? And the way he <em>looks</em> at you?”</p><p>“I told you,” said Hermione, again.</p><p>“What, so you approve?” asked Harry. “Because you have a weird way of showing it, if so.”</p><p>Ron made a face.</p><p>“No, he’s still <em>Malfoy</em>, isn’t he? I hate the guy. But he does seem pretty genuinely in love with you. Which is weird.”</p><p>“Well, I’m pretty genuinely in love with <em>him</em>, so if you could refrain from being a massive dick again, I’d appreciate it.”</p><p>Ron was just protesting when Draco returned with the drinks. </p><p>“They had that cider you like,” he said to Harry, passing him a pint.</p><p>“Thanks,” said Harry. </p><p>“No problem. Are you done talking about me behind my back, or should I go to the loo?”</p><p>“They’re done,” said Hermione placidly. “You can stay.”</p><p><br/>
“Thank you for saying all that,” said Harry that night, as they lay in bed. </p><p>“It isn’t really fair on him, you dating me,” said Draco.</p><p>“He’ll get over it.”</p><p>“The victims shouldn’t <em>have</em> to forgive the perpetuators.”</p><p>Harry curled closer into Draco’s arms. Draco kissed him on the top of his head, distractedly.</p><p>“I don’t loathe you, Malfoy,” said Harry. “Not even a little bit.”</p><p>Draco sighed, and ran his cool fingers through Harry’s hair. </p><p>“You’ve seen me in the cold, harsh light of hatred for most of my life. That can’t be undone.”</p><p>“You hated me in school, too,” said Harry.</p><p>Draco didn’t answer.</p><p>“Draco?”</p><p>Draco’s fingers kept stroking Harry’s hair.</p><p>“…didn’t you?” asked Harry.</p><p>“Not the same kind of hatred,” said Draco, softly.</p><p>Harry turned onto his side, so that they were nose-to-nose. They used to lie like this often, in Mysteries, seeing and not seeing each other. </p><p>“You liked me?”</p><p>Draco hesitated.</p><p>“It’s complicated,” he said. “I don’t think—I can’t explain.”</p><p>“I love you, Malfoy.”</p><p>“I like it when you do that.”</p><p>“Call you Malfoy?”</p><p>“Call me Malfoy <em>like that</em>.”</p><p><br/>
The following afternoon, Harry received a letter at the auror department. </p><p><br/>
<em>Dear K,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I thought it might be easier to explain on paper. Even if it’s not, I figured I probably owe you a decent letter. My replies to your letters were rather curt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You asked me if I liked you at school, and I certainly didn’t. But whereas your hatred of me was based on your knowing me to be a spoilt, weak, selfish, entitled coward who failed utterly to recognise good from evil until it was horrifically, blindingly obvious, my hatred of you was based on your inherent superiority. I despised you because I wanted to be you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>At no point have I ever truly thought ill of you. I’m sure I thought I did. But “he’s so arrogant about how attractive he is” is different from “he’s a repulsive worm who willingly became a Death Eater”.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Untangling the knot of hatred around you left nothing to hate behind. That cannot be true for your feelings about me. The things I hated about you were really things I hated about myself. The things you hated about me… were me. There’s a difference.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There is something about me that you love, and I believe you love that piece of me with all of your generous heart. I am grateful for it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours,</em><br/>
<em>L</em>
</p><p><br/>
Harry read the letter a few times before replying.</p><p>
  <em>Malfoy,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Did you know that most figs have dead wasps inside them? Something to do with the wasps pollinating them, crawling inside them, and dying. The fig digests the wasp body, then we eat the figs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I really fucking hate wasps. I really fucking love figs. I don’t think, like, “I love every part of this fig except for the dead wasp.” The dead wasp was, in fact, a necessary part of making the fig. It’s completely part of the fig. And I love the fig completely.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You see where I’m going with this tortured analogy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t love a piece of you. I love you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Potter</em>
</p><p><br/>
“I don’t like figs,” said Draco, when they saw each other after work, “and that fact about the wasps was horrifying.”</p><p>But he didn’t speak anymore of Harry loathing bits of him, and although he still woke up in the night, it was less often. </p><p><br/>
Harry came home one evening and found Timothy, shirtless (he took off his clothes when he was stressed), striding back and forth in the dining room. Draco lounged in a chair, sucking on the end of a fountain pen. There was extensive paper work on the table in front of him.</p><p>“Er,” said Harry.</p><p>“<em>You</em> don’t want me to go to Croatia, do you?” said Timothy, rounding on Harry.</p><p>“Er, no?”</p><p>“You’ll like Pula,” said Draco. “Best-preserved Roman amphitheatre in all Europe.”</p><p>“That’s not the point!” said Timothy.</p><p>“Er, Draco? Why are we sending Timothy to Croatia?”</p><p>“Because that’s where Mira Lustig lives,” said Draco. “The finest wand craftsman in the Western world. And she’s looking to train a new apprentice.”</p><p>“Timothy! That sounds perfect!”</p><p>Timothy pulled his hair.</p><p>“She’s <em>muggleborn</em>,” he said.</p><p>“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Harry.</p><p>“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” said Timothy. “You never understand anything!”</p><p>“Because you’re being fucking stupid,” said Harry.</p><p>Draco made a small sound.</p><p>“What?” said Harry. “He is! Ollivander’s been cagey as hell about training him to make wands. Do you want to be a shop boy your whole life, Timothy?”</p><p>Draco muttered something that sounded like “…not the best way to go about this.”</p><p>“It’s not because I hate muggleborns,” said Timothy. “If it was that, I would have called her the m-word.”</p><p>“Then what is it?” asked Harry.</p><p>“I’m… I’m worried I’ll say something to offend her without meaning to. I’ve never been around muggleborns. I won’t know how to behave.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Harry.</p><p>“They’re just people, Timmy. You’ll offend her just as much as you offend <em>everyone</em>. No more, no less,” said Draco. </p><p>Timothy sighed and sat down. </p><p>“I don’t want to be a dick,” he said.</p><p>“I sympathise,” said Draco. </p><p>“You’ll be fine,” said Harry. “Do you want to go?”</p><p>“Obviously I <em>want</em> to go,” said Timothy. “She’s <em>Mira Lustig</em>.” Timmy reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head, a sure sign that he was feeling calmer. “I won’t get the apprenticeship, anyway. The application is really complicated.”</p><p>“I did most of it for you while you were raging about all the potentially bigoted things you might accidentally say and do,” said Draco.</p><p>“You… really?”</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“It’s how Draco shows affection. Paperwork.”</p><p>Timothy flushed bright red. </p><p>“Affection,” he said, frowning.</p><p>“Mhm,” said Draco. “You know, that thing you feel for your friends and family?”</p><p>Timothy flushed even brighter red and bent his head so that his hair fell in front of his face.</p><p>“Thanks,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”</p><p>“Sign here, and then you’ll have to write a cover letter,” said Draco. “We’ll work on it together.”</p><p>“Thank you,” said Timothy again.</p><p>He was subdued all evening. He cast frequent, pensive looks at Draco all through dinner.</p><p>“Is he all right?” asked Harry, when Timothy went to bed.</p><p>“I think he’s just not used to simple types of love,” said Draco.</p><p><br/>
The fight they had was about Ron, when Draco made some off-hand remark about the Weasleys being poor. Harry blew up, and the more he ranted about Draco being a snob, the colder and more distant Draco grew.</p><p>“The Weasleys are poor because of historic and systemic prejudice against muggleborns and those who sympathise with them,” said Draco, when Harry had spent all his fury. “But it’s good to know what you still think of me.”</p><p>Harry was speechless. Draco took Timothy and went to the pub. </p><p>Harry went to bed, but couldn’t sleep. At midnight, he heard Timothy laughing and stumbling up the stairs, and Draco shushing him.</p><p>Harry wondered which door Draco would open. Which room he would sleep in. He forced himself to believe that Draco would knock; that they would make up.</p><p>There was a knock at his door. </p><p>“Come in,” said Harry.</p><p>“Did I wake you?” asked Draco, poking his head in. His speech was slightly slurred.</p><p>“No. Draco, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Don’t sleep in the other room.”</p><p>“I wasn’t going to,” said Draco. He clumsily pulled off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers. “I decided you didn’t mean it.”</p><p>“I was an idiot.”</p><p>“I decided you love me,” said Draco, slipping into bed.</p><p>“I love you so much.”</p><p>Draco curled into his arms. </p><p>“I decided that you saying all that stuff doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean you don’t know me,” said Draco.</p><p>“I do know you,” said Harry.</p><p>“I know,” said Draco, yawning and tucking his head into the crook of Harry’s shoulder. “I decided to believe that.”</p><p>It wasn’t quite the same as believing, really believing. But it would do until then. </p><p> </p><p>They both missed Timothy, when he went to Croatia. They spent more time with Ron and Hermione. Ron had never been rude to Draco again since the first pub trip, and Harry suspected that Ron was fast coming to view Draco as a good friend. </p><p>“He’s all right, actually,” he said, when Harry asked him about it. “Mental ideas about quidditch, but yeah, he’s okay.”</p><p>This, Harry knew, was high praise. He passed it on to Draco, who just laughed his hopeless laugh and shook his head.</p><p>“He’ll always hate me, Harry. I’ve made my peace with it. I literally poisoned him, don’t forget.”</p><p>“He doesn’t hate you anymore.”</p><p>“He’s just being a good friend to you. Don’t bother about it, Harry, it’s not a big deal.”</p><p>Beliefs changed slowly, Harry learned, but they did change. When Ron and Hermione had a big fight and Ron came to sleep on the couch, it was Draco who sat with him and gave careful, finely-worded counsel. </p><p>“Thank you,” said Ron, grabbing Draco’s hand, when Draco went to bed. Draco looked pleasantly surprised.</p><p>“Anytime,” he said. </p><p>His advice was good, and Ron took it, and he and Hermione made up. </p><p><br/>
“I’ve already filed your tax return,” said Draco, when Harry asked where the forms were. “Shouldn’t I have?”</p><p>Harry kissed him.</p><p>“You make my life so much easier.”</p><p>“I like taking care of you,” said Draco.</p><p>Harry’s Bad Days were rarer, but just as bad when they came. Draco would take the day off work if he could, and they would sit in the garden under the spreading London plane tree.</p><p>"I know it doesn’t seem like you’re helping by being here,” Harry told Draco, “but you are.”</p><p>“That’s how I feel, when I need you.”</p><p>“You don’t mind sitting out here with me?” asked Harry.</p><p>“I told you,” said Draco. “I like taking care of you.”</p><p>“I wish I didn’t need to be taken care of.”</p><p>“Oh, everyone needs to be taken care of,” said Draco. “One way or another.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco was still melancholy after sex, but it didn’t last as long as it used to.</p><p>“It’s not an unpleasant sort of sadness,” he told Harry.</p><p>“Just tell me if there’s anything I can do,” said Harry.</p><p>“You’re perfect,” said Draco. “You make everything so much easier.”</p><p> </p><p>When Draco went to visit Timothy in Croatia, Harry immediately noticed all the little ways in which his quality of life deteriorated without him there.</p><p><em>Dear Draco,</em> he wrote.</p><p>
  <em>There are a million ways that life is worse without you. Did you know that when you aren’t here, no one checks the floo log? I missed four calls yesterday. I’m a terrible adult. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Have we been together for eight months, or a year and eight months? How do you count it? I miss you. I wish you were here, but I know you’ll come back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Come back?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry</em>
</p><p><br/>
Instead of answering, Draco returned a day early.</p><p>“Thought I’d surprise you,” he said. </p><p> </p><p>That night, he sat abruptly up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, staring into blackness. Harry curled around his body in a u-shape. </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” said Draco. </p><p>“You’re unhappy.”</p><p>“Not often.”</p><p>“But now. Seeing Timothy made you unhappy,” said Harry.</p><p>Draco rubbed at his Dark Mark.</p><p>“I just wish I hadn’t fucked up my life so badly. I feel so <em>behind</em>.”</p><p>Harry kissed his way up the back of Draco’s arm. </p><p>“It’s okay that we’re not over it, yet,” said Harry. “We’ll be better, one day.”</p><p>“Do you really believe that?” asked Draco. </p><p>Harry pulled him close, kissed his soft eyelids, his thin mouth. He didn’t have to tell himself to believe. He simply did.</p><p>“Yes,” he said. “I do.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gahh! It's done! </p><p>Tepre, you are a marvel, and I am so grateful to have met you. I had you in mind as I plotted this out in my head (thus trapping them in a house together), and I hope I have written something Tepresque, in the Tepre-genre, alluding to the famed Tepre style. </p><p>Nilolay - as always thank you for helping me figure out the ending! and for the line about there being other hot people outside this household! You're funny. Tacky Tiger also helped me clarify some ideas despite being struck down in her youth and beauty by the plague. (She's okay.)</p><p>Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting, I love adjusting the story slightly based on feedback as I go, it's such a privilege of fan fiction! </p><p>If you fancy seeing what I'm reading, do check out my instagram, @let_them_eat_books  !</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I usually update every day but I will be a little slower/less regular with this story bc I have a lot on for quarantine reasons. If you want to see the books I'm reading at the moment (they usually have a big impact on how I write) you can follow me on Instagram at @let_them_eat_books where I review all the books I read!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967244">I'm a toxic thing to you</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywaywardsin/pseuds/mywaywardsin">mywaywardsin</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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